


TS-20

by Libbeerty



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, au where Rick is a scientist, this is seriously a hot mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-28 20:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 69,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libbeerty/pseuds/Libbeerty
Summary: Daryl Dixon is subject 20, a test subject inadvertently exposed to the newly discovered Walker gene. Rick Grimes is the scientist hired to help cure the disease.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Walking Dead fanfic and my first fanfic in general for many years. First time writing anything above a PG-13 rating as well. Please be kind with your comments. I'm aware this isn't perfect, but if you don't like it, then please don't read it. Thanks :)
> 
> It's also finished, which means I'll be posting a new chapter every day or two until it's all uploaded.

"This is the lab," Dr. Jenner says, motioning with one hand towards a large room encased in plexiglass. Rick can see sets of beakers, Bunsen burners, and other laboratory equipment through the large windows. He nods at Jenner, who sweeps his outstretched hand back to his side and continues down the hallway.

  
Several other, smaller lab rooms sit adjacent to the first, closed off by pass-code locked double doors. Most of them are empty, Rick notes, but it's late in the evening and he's sure that most of the staff has gone home for the day.

  
Jenner leads Rick up a set of metal stairs and down another long, winding hallway. They pass another set of lab rooms, and Rick peers through the largest, which goes back as far as he can see. Out of the corner of his eye he can see movement, and he swears there's a man on the other side, past another plexiglass window in a small room behind the rest of the lab equipment. He's just about to ask Jenner about it when the other man speaks, halfway down the hall.

  
"That's where the test subjects sleep. This floor has been dedicated to the eradication of the Walker gene, as we've taken to calling it. We keep the infected back there, and we study the progression of the disease for as long as we can before..."

  
Rick nods. He knows what the disease can do. He's never seen it, not in person at least, but he's seen enough news reports and notes from his colleagues to know that it's the most deadly disease he's ever encountered. Not only does it kill whoever is infected - a slow, painful death that can be drawn out for days - but it turns them into something inhuman.

  
"How many do you have back there?" he asks, and Jenner stops, pausing like he's contemplating something.

  
"Two," he finally says. "One male, one female. The man was just brought in today; he's not even exhibiting any symptoms yet. Says he touched an infected's blood, but won't say whose."

  
"Does that mean he's going to turn?" Rick asks, genuinely curious. He loves his job, always has, but sitting in an office all day doing paperwork has its drawbacks. He's happy to help the cause, but more than that, he's just glad to have something to do.

  
Jenner shrugs, turning away from the glass windows and continuing his way down the corridor. "Probably. We're not entirely sure how this infection spreads yet, but if it's anything like AIDs... As long as it's not airborne, we're fine. Just don't touch any of the test subjects without your biohazard suit on, just to be safe."

  
Rick glances back at the string of tiny rooms in the back of the lab, and again he sees the flicker of movement, but it's so quick he can't be sure he isn't just imagining it.

  
Jenner beckons him along and he follows, continuing the tour of the facilities. They pass by several other lab rooms, but none of the others contain test subjects - Rick asks, just to be sure. It seems they're focusing as much of their efforts as possible on eradicating the Walker gene, because most of the rooms have been abandoned in favor of the second floor observation area. They haven't even figured out what the disease is, exactly - where it came from or how it's spread, let alone how to cure it. But that's why Rick's here, he supposes. To attempt to do just that.

  
The tour ends with the upper floors, which contain both offices and sleeping quarters for those unlucky enough to work late shifts.

  
"Some of us live here, as far as we're concerned. Don't have a family to go back to, even if we wanted to. You're welcome any time, but I'm guessing you won't be staying?"

  
Rick shakes his head slowly, then glances down at his watch. "On second thought, maybe just tonight. It's a bit late to commute back home and I'm sure Lori will understand if I'm late getting back just this once."

  
"Lori... Your wife?"

  
Rick tries to ignore the pit that forms in his stomach at the word wife. They've been talking about divorce for so long, it feels like she's not even his anymore.

  
He shakes off the feeling, noticing Jenner staring at him and realizing that he hasn't even responded yet.

  
"That's right," he says, and if the doctor hears anything suspicious in his tone, he tactfully doesn't comment. "We've got a son together, too. Carl. He'll be turning twelve in a couple months."

  
Dr. Jenner nods, something unsettling in his expression. But then he smiles, just as quickly, and Rick doesn't think it's appropriate to ask.

  
"That's wonderful. Feel free to call them and let them know you'll be staying. You can pick any room you'd like to use, I don't think anyone else but myself is staying tonight."

  
"That's awfully kind of you, thanks."

  
All of the rooms near the upper floor offices look the same: a small, cot-like bed in one corner, a dark brown dresser in the other, and a desk across from the door that Rick figures is for after-hours work purposes. He didn't bring a change of clothes, but he'll be leaving for home early enough in the morning that it doesn't really matter.

  
He picks the room two doors in on the right side of the hallway, just a few steps away from the bathroom and, as it turns out, on the exact opposite end from Jenner's room. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, and he throws his things - wallet and keys - on the dresser and sits with his phone in his lap, working up the courage to ask Lori if he can spend yet another night away. She hates when he works late, and he's been doing it more and more frequently lately. Even more now, if this new virus is all he expects it to be.

  
He sighs and dials her number, holding the phone close to his ear and hoping she'll keep quiet so Jenner doesn't hear. The last thing he needs is to bring another person in on his marital problems.  
She picks up on the third ring, her voice soft and groggy. "Hello?"

  
"Did I wake you?" he asks, glancing again at his watch. Eleven pm. Oops. "Sorry. I just wanted to let you know I'm staying here tonight. I'll be back as soon as I can in the morning, though. Probably even before Carl heads off to school."

  
He can almost hear her nodding along on the other end of the phone.

  
"That's fine," she says, with a tone that tells him that it's very much not fine. "It's nothing I'm not used to."

  
"Lori..." He sighs again, running his free hand through his hair. He really needs a trim, and maybe a shave too. Especially if he's going to be working with hazardous materials. "Let's not do this tonight, okay? I just started this new job, and you knew I was going to be here late."

  
"I'm not starting anything, Rick. I said it was fine, and it is."

  
"Okay, then." He debates pressing her for the truth, but he knows from experience that it's not worth it. She'll just get angry, throw the d-word around, and their marriage will be one step closer to its end. "Tell Carl I said I'm sorry. I'll take him to a game to make up for it, whatever he wants."

  
"I will." Lori's voice sounds tinny and strained over the phone. He wonders if that's just because she's tired, or if something else is the matter.

  
"Lori, you know I'm sorry, right?" he says, and she doesn't say anything in response. "I know I haven't been there for you lately, you and Carl, and I'm gonna make it up to you. I promise. I'm just trying to make a life for you two. You're all I've got."

  
He's starting to sound desperate now, and he knows it. This is how it always goes - he pleads with her until she finally puts away her talk of divorce and they decide to 'start over' and 'try again.' And it never works out, because here they are, doing it all over again. The same words, even. He can feel the repetition on his tongue and it feels like it's someone else saying these words, not him. Like he's not even there anymore.

  
"I know, Rick," Lori says, breathing pure exasperation into the phone. "I know."

  
"I'm... Okay," he says, stopping himself mid-apology. "Tell Carl I love him. I love you, too. I'll see you both in the morning."

  
"Bye, Rick."

  
She hangs up before he can even say goodbye, and he throws the phone down on the other end of the bed like it's a hot iron. He folds his hands in his lap, then pulls them apart and curls his fingers in his hair again, tugging hard. He gets up and puts his phone on the dresser next to his wallet and keys and lays down on the bed, shifting to get comfortable. He knows he won't sleep well tonight, not when he has to prepare for another 'talk' with Lori in the morning, and more innocent questioning from Carl about why his father is never home. Carl is almost better than Lori at making him feel guilty.

  
Instead, he thinks about the facility he's in, about the endless labs and offices and dorm rooms. He wonders why a place so secure, so confident in its own abilities, would choose to hire new scientists for something as simple as a new virus. It's frightening, certainly, but it's barely spreading and so far seems to be pretty well contained. And the test subjects, did they volunteer, or were they just infected people that Jenner somehow managed to find and bring in before the disease set in too far?

  
He closes his eyes and thinks about the man - at least, he's pretty sure it was a man - he saw down in the labs. Did he sign up for this? Did he come into the lab, sick with the disease, and ask them to take him in?

  
Rick is almost asleep when he hears it, a single long, helpless scream echoing down the hallways and he thinks, no, he probably didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing huge happens here. It's a slow burn, you have been warned. Worth it though, I promise :)
> 
> Another chapter will be posted tomorrow, to make up for this little filler.

Rick wakes up early the next morning to the sound of his phone, the alarm he set the day before ringing loudly against the walls of the small room. He sits up, groggy, and toes on his shoes. He could shower, he supposes, but he promised Lori he'd be home at a reasonable time today and he can always shower at home. He doesn't have to be back at work for nearly eight hours now, so he's got plenty of time.

  
Really, though, he'd rather just stay. He could get all kinds of research done, chat a little more with Jenner, maybe even meet the test subjects. Get to know them by name instead of by title, maybe even cure them. That's why he's here, after all.

  
He passes by several other scientists on his way out of the building. Jenner isn't anywhere to be seen, and Rick wonders if he finally went home, or if he's in one of the labs, working early. He seems like the kind of man who works whenever he can. Rick can understand that.

  
"Hey, you're the new guy, right?" another man, a young Asian kid already wearing a lab coat asks Rick as he's walking past a set of offices on the third floor. He looks like he's barely even out of college, and Rick doesn't want to stereotype him, but he can tell just by looking at him that's he's smart for his age.

  
"Rick," Rick says, holding out his right hand to shake. The young man takes it in his own and gives it a weak squeeze.

  
"Glenn," he says in response, releasing his grip and stepping to the side. "I'm more into paperwork than stuff like this," he gestures to his stark white lab coat with a sour expression, "but it's all hands on deck from now on. At least in the Walker department. Can you believe I gave up being an accountant for this?"

  
Rick smiles, already starting to feel a kinship with the man. "I get that. I was on my way to being a sheriff, if you can imagine that. Glad I didn't, though."

  
They walk along the hall together, past empty lab rooms and down a set of stairs that leads to the second floor. The Walker gene floor, where the test subjects are being kept. Rick instinctively cranes his neck to look for the man he saw yesterday, but if he's in there, he's below eye-level. The woman, however, is up and about, pacing in her room and looking around frantically like she expects something awful is about to swoop down and take her. Her eyes are wide, wild, and her hair is a mess of curls sweeping down both of her shoulders. Rick can see brown hair and tanned skin, but nothing else about the woman is visible from his vantage point.

  
Glenn must see him looking, because he stops, pulling Rick to a halt beside him.

  
"You've heard about the test subjects, I'm guessing?" he asks, and Rick nods mutely, eyes still fixed on the woman in the room.

  
"Jenner didn't tell me much about them. Just that there's two and they're sick."

  
"That's about all there is to know," Glenn says. "The woman in there? She's number nineteen, and the man is twenty. She's been here for two days, he got here yesterday. Came in while I was on break, but I could hear him shouting from upstairs. I haven't been in there yet to get a good look at them. Andrea says he was covered in blood when they found him, and it wasn't his."

  
Rick ignores the way his stomach drops at Glenn's description. Just like he ignored the scream he heard last night.

  
"Andrea?" he asks instead, hoping to change the subject.

  
Glenn starts walking again, and Rick follows at his side. "Yeah, Andrea. Tall, blonde, thinks she's in charge of everything. You'll meet her eventually, I can guarantee that."

  
Rick nods, scanning his brain to think of whether he's seen her yet or not. He got in late last night and only encountered a few other people, none of whom matched Glenn's description. "I'll keep that in mind."

  
They walk in silence for a few minutes, and before he knows it, Rick is back on the first floor facing the front doors, and Glenn has stopped walking again.

  
"Well, this is where I see you off, my friend," Glenn says, patting Rick on the shoulder and taking a step back. "Take care. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around?"

  
"Yeah. I'll be back."

  
Rick waves him off and leaves the building, and the second he's past the tall double doors he wishes he was back on the other side.

  
\---

  
"The night shift? Really, Rick? Carl needs his father, and I need my husband. Home for more than just a few hours a day if we're lucky."

  
"I don't know what you want me to say, Lori. I work hard to support my family. I'm home whenever I can be. Isn't that enough?"

  
"No," she says, her tone icy. "You're home when you want to be. I know you mean well, but you can't honestly tell me they're working you that hard. Paperwork, Rick. You did paperwork at your old job. And this new research thing? It's just an excuse to work longer hours, isn't it?"

  
"It's important work, Lori!" he all but shouts, his voice rising in pitch with every word. He's letting her get him all riled up again, and he hates when he lets that happen. He's usually so good about keeping his temper in check, but she's just as good at getting under his skin.

  
"It's a virus, Rick. It'll settle itself out after a few months with or without you."

  
Her words hit him like a punch to his stomach. He's thankful Carl is at school, because the kid honestly doesn't deserve to have to play the middle man with his own parents. Rick isn't sure whose side he would take, anyway, and that scares him just as much as Lori's anger.

  
"You haven't seen what this thing can do," he says, trying his best to keep his voice calm. "I have. It has a one hundred percent fatality rate right now, Lori, and it doesn't just kill you, it brings you back. You've seen the news reports, but up close, it's..."

  
"You haven't seen it either, Rick. You're just going off of what you've read in that paperwork of yours. Have you even seen it up close?"

  
He runs his hand through his hair, catching his fingers in his curls. "Yeah," he says after a moment, thinking about the woman this morning, pacing in her cell-like room with her pupils blown wide and sweat shining on her skin so thickly he could see it from two rooms away. "Yeah, I have."

  
"Then you know just how in over your head you are."

  
Rick shakes his head, walking forward until he's leaning against the window sill. He puts his hands on the frame and bows his head, Lori's gaze burning into his back. He does know how in over his head he is. He's seen so many case files - people, bitten or not, dying of a disease that no amount of antibiotics can cure. People who die just to come back to life minutes later, people who have killed their own loved ones in the worst sort of ways because they're not even people anymore. Rick knows that's what the test subjects at the lab will become - monsters, Walkers, the stuff of nightmares. And he has a right to be scared, but he also has the right, the obligation to do what he can to stop it before it becomes a full-on outbreak.

  
"That's why I have to do this, Lori. I have to help if I can. And if that means staying overnight a few times when they need me to, then that's what it takes."

  
He doesn't look at Lori, can't bear to see the hurt and anger in her eyes. He knows how frustrating it must be, to be married to a man who's never home, who can't even bother to give his own son the time of day. And he promises himself he'll do better, for Carl's sake, but that doesn't mean he can't still try to save people when he's given the opportunity. He's doing it all for them, to create a better future for his wife and son. Why can't she see that?

  
Lori doesn't say anything, and after a couple of minutes of silence he can hear her retreating footsteps. It sounds like she's going down the hallway, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor, and then a door closes softly and the house is quiet again. She's in their bedroom, he assumes, sleeping or crying or fuming, or some mixture of all three.

  
Rick isn't sure what to feel. Angry? He's not the one who deserves to be angry, and he knows it. Disappointed? In himself more than her, and even then it's a stretch; he knows, deep down, that he's doing the right thing, whether she sees it or not. Tired is a more accurate word; he's a bone-deep tired that he knows no amount of sleep will fix. And even if he could sleep, Lori is in their bed right now, and he knows she doesn't want to see him right now.

  
So he does the only logical thing: he grabs his wallet and car keys from the table by the door and heads back to the lab.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little heads up: this does not take place in the CDC from the show. I have no idea what the layout and policy of that particular lab is, so I've made up my own. I'm not a scientist, so most of this is just based on my own assumptions. Please remember that this is a fictional place :)

Rick is almost, almost excited to get back to the lab. He hasn't looked forward to a day of work in years, but his job hasn't been this important before either. Sure, he's worked in a laboratory setting before, years ago, but he was mostly just studying things other people had already gotten a head start on. He's never had an opportunity to prove himself, not like this. Not when people's lives are at stake.

  
It's thrilling and terrifying all at once.

  
He pulls up to the lab and parks his car, next to a fancy new sedan with Florida license plates. They've really started pulling scientists from all over the country for this, Rick realizes. They're either really cautious, or scared. Rick figures it's best to be a little bit of both.

  
His key card lets him into the building and he immediately heads back to the lockers, throwing his personal items inside and shrugging on a lab coat before making his way up to the second floor. He runs across several other scientists, most of whom he's never seen before, but nobody says anything to him. Most of them are gathering around the second floor, the same as him, carrying paperwork and rushing between the offices and the lab. They all look focused, so Rick tries his best to put on the same expression. He thinks he almost manages it, until he hears a soft chuckle from behind him and turns to see Glenn, smiling broadly with his hand over his mouth.

  
"Man, you should see yourself," Glenn says, letting out another huffy laugh. "If you're trying to look serious, you overshot it big time."

  
Rick lets his expression fall back into somewhere between casual and amused. "Sorry, I just figured I should try a little harder to blend in. I feel like everyone here knows I'm the new guy."

  
"So what? That just makes you interesting."

  
Rick smiles, falling into step beside Glenn again. "Why are you still here, anyway? Working overtime, or just enjoying the job?"

  
Nobody ever really enjoys their job, Rick thinks, but he comes pretty close. He likes having the chance to change the world, even if most of his work involves looking at things through a microscope and failing to figure out what they are. He can tell Glenn likes his job too; the kid is far too chipper to be bitter about working for a place like this. And he doesn't strike Rick as another 'new guy,' even as young as he must be. He files it away to ask Jenner about later.

  
"I'm just leaving, actually," Glenn says, and Rick realizes he's been leading them away from the second floor lab and not towards it. He can see the exit's double doors looming in the distance, past a shuffling crowd of scientists who definitely look like they don't enjoy their jobs.

  
"Good day?" Rick asks, wondering what's in store for him when he gets back upstairs.

  
"Not bad. I met the new test subject, the guy they brought in yesterday? He's really something, man. You'll see what I mean when you get back up there."

  
"Is that bad, or good? Should I be worried?"

  
"Nah." Glenn pauses at the doors and turns back towards Rick. "Just prepared. I'll see you tomorrow?"

  
He holds out his hand to Rick, but instead of a handshake he seems to be going for a high five. Rick obliges with a quick "I'll be here," and Glenn grins before turning back and walking out the door.

  
Rick makes his way back up the stairs to the second floor with a smile still on his face. He feels like nothing can ruin his day, not even the prospect of having to deal with an irritable test subject or an even more irritable wife when he gets home. He can always stay the night again, if he has to, but he'd rather it not come to that. He still has a son, after all, and he owes it to him to be home at least a few hours a day. Even if Lori would rather he just leave and never come back.

  
When he gets to the second floor lab, there are biohazard suits waiting for him just inside the first set of doors. He throws one on over his clothes, making sure it's sealed tight before stepping inside the second room, a decontamination chamber. It cleans his suit and makes sure he doesn't bring a trace of the outside world into the lab with him.

  
If they knew what caused the disease, he might not have to wear the suit. But for now, it might be airborne, and they can't take any chances. Rick doesn't mind, although the suit is bulky and makes it hard to breathe sometimes. He understands the risks, understood them when he signed the papers just to get to work here. It'll be worth it when they find the cure, he thinks.

  
He realizes when he finally steps out of the decontamination room and into the actual lab just how close he is to the test subjects now. He can actually see subject 19, the woman, two rooms down on his right. He notices several things about her at once, and it takes him a moment of staring to actually process what they all are.

  
First, her skin tone. He'd initially thought it was a deep tan, like she'd stayed out in the sun for just a few hours too long, but now it's a pale, chalky white that makes her look almost like a ghost. She's lying down on the bed in the corner of the room, her hair plastered to her face with sweat, and her eyes are closed. He takes a step forward, then another, until he's just outside of her room, and it's another few moments before he can be sure she's even breathing. He watches the steady rising and falling of her chest for a minute before he's completely convinced she isn't dead. Even so, she looks like she's in the late stages of the disease. Even if they could find a cure, it's likely too late for her now.

  
There's a card in front of her room, attached to the wall by a framed paper holder, that says TS-19, along with some stats about the woman - her blood type, the date she first began showing symptoms. Bitten, it says in bold, and if he looks closely through the thick plexiglass, he thinks he can even see the barest hint of a bite mark along the curve of her neck, disappearing into the shoulder of her shirt.

  
Next to her room there's another placard, this one for test subject number twenty. TS-20. The stats are all the same, with exception of the very last one. Instead of bitten, it says Infection: blood and that's all. No name, nothing personal, just an age and a blood type. Nothing that says that these people are anything other than laboratory experiments. Rick feels a pang of pity for them, for the woman with scientists pressing their faces against the glass window of her room all day, who probably didn't even have a choice in being here in the first place.

  
The man is harder to spot; it takes Rick a moment to find him in the small room because he isn't on the bed or in front of the window. Instead, he's curled up in the corner of the room, between the bed and the wall, his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms around them. His light brown hair looks filthy and matted, like he hasn't showered in days, and the skin that Rick can see is no better. He has his head down, bowed towards his knees, but his eyes are up and roving, searching the room like he's looking for a way to escape or a better place to hide. Rick feels a sudden burst of pity for him, churning in his stomach, and for the first time he almost wishes he had just stayed home.

  
"He's usually not this... docile," Dr. Jenner says, coming up from behind Rick to stand next to him. "You heard him last night, I assume?"

  
Rick nods, eyes fixed on the man in the plexiglass room. He's completely still, not moving a muscle, except for his eyes. It's nothing like seeing the woman earlier, pacing the floor, and Rick wonders if this is the same person he thought he saw last night, moving around so quickly he could hardly catch the motions.

  
"He came in before you did yesterday, screaming his head off about monsters, and it took three of my best men to get him here." Jenner motions with his hands while he speaks, but the movements mean nothing to Rick.

  
"Why'd they bring him in?" Rick usually knows better than to press for answers he probably isn't going to get, especially in a case he's barely even authorized to be dealing with, but he can't help but be curious. There's something about this man, test subject number twenty, that has his interests piqued.

  
Jenner bites his lip, and for a moment Rick is afraid he's asked the wrong thing. "The police found him," the doctor says after a pause. "Next to his brother's body. Dead. He'd bashed his head in with a rock, of all things. Said he was infected and turned and he had to... 'put him down.' He was a wreck, covered in blood, and the police didn't dare touch him. Sometimes he's quiet, like he is now, and other times he's screaming every obscenity you can think of."

  
Rick wonders if number twenty can hear them now, talking about him like he's not even there. He can't even imagine what the man must be feeling, just one day after having to kill his own brother. If it was Carl, or Lori... He doesn't think he would be able to do it, what this man did.

  
"Can I talk to him?" Rick asks, unsure of where the sudden conviction comes from. He doesn't know what he expects to accomplish, what he can do that the other scientists were unable to. He just knows that he has to try, even just once. "Just for a few minutes, I promise."

  
Jenner looks unsure, glancing between Rick and number twenty with a frown on his face. Rick is prepared to beg if he has to, but he knows it won't come to that. Dr. Jenner may be in charge, and Rick may be the 'new guy,' but studying the test subjects is what he's here to do, and there's nothing Jenner can do to keep him away from them.

  
Jenner sighs, fidgeting with the gloves of his suit. "I can't exactly stop you," he says. "But I can advise you against it. If you do choose to go in there, though, take a blood sample, will you? We've been unable to so far."

  
"Sure thing," Rick says, smiling softly. He goes to retrieve the supplies he'll need to take the subject's blood when a thought occurs to him. "Hey, doctor?"

  
"Yes, Rick?"

  
Rick hesitates, but only for a moment. "What's his name? Number twenty?"

  
"Dixon. Daryl Dixon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos. You guys are the best and your comments make my day :)


	4. Chapter 4

"Daryl? I'm coming in, okay?"

  
Daryl, as expected, doesn't respond. Rick takes that as his consent and opens the door, letting out a puff of stale air that smells vaguely of cigarette smoke. Jenner had warned him that they hadn't managed to convince the man to take a shower yet, though they'd offered more than once. He had, at least, taken the clean change of clothes they'd given him. That must mean something.

  
Rick sets his supplies down on the bed and nearly sits down next to them but thinks better of it and crouches down on the floor instead, leaning back on his haunches so that he's eye-level with Daryl.

  
It feels nice to be able to call him something other than number twenty in his head. Daryl suits him, Rick thinks. He doesn't know anything about the man, but somehow the name just fits.

  
"Daryl?" Rick says again, keeping his distance just in case, a few feet between the two of them. "That's your name, right? I'm Rick. Rick Grimes."

  
Rick thinks he hears a grunt in response, but he can't be certain through the thick mask blocking his ears. He tries again, "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk, is all."

  
Daryl, predictably, says nothing. But his eyes flick up towards Rick and he looks at him, pale blue staring past the hair hanging down over his forehead. He looks like a wild animal caught in a trap, but just for a moment Rick can see the human side of him underneath. Then his eyes drop back down and he scoots closer to the wall, and Rick thinks he's just lost the only opportunity he might have had.

  
"I heard they brought you in with your brother," Rick says, trying to keep his voice soft, barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry about that. I really am. But they-we are just trying to help. We need to figure out where this disease is coming from if we want to cure it. And that's all we want, I promise you. If you don't get sick, they'll let you go."

  
"And if I do get sick?"

  
Rick almost doesn't hear it through his suit, the man's voice raspy and thick like he hasn't spoken in days. Rick wonders if anyone else has managed to get him to talk yet, beyond shouting curse words and screaming his head off. A thrill of excitement runs through him like electricity; he might be the first person here to actually get Daryl Dixon to talk.

  
Rick is so surprised by the sound that he doesn't realize at first that Daryl has asked him a question and is probably expecting a response. He clears his throat, ignoring the way his breath fogs up the inside of his mask and momentarily clouds his vision of the man in front of him.

  
"Then we'll do our best to cure you. That's why we're here."

  
Daryl nods at the supplies on the bed - a syringe, an empty vial with a printout of Daryl's information on the side, and a strip of blue rubber to tie around his arm and made it easier to find a vein. Rick has taken classes on phlebotomy, and this isn't his first time approaching someone sick and asking for a vial of their blood. It's the first time he's been this nervous to ask, though.

  
"That's just for research," Rick says, answering Daryl's unasked question. "We need to see if you're sick first, and then we can work on finding a cure if you are."

  
"Makes sense," Daryl mutters, a drawl in his voice that gives away more about his upbringing than Rick is sure he would have wanted. "Didn't sign up for this, though."

  
"No." Rick shakes his head, noticing the way Daryl's posture gradually changes. Tense to relaxed, then back again, like he's never perfectly comfortable. Rick wishes he would let go of his knees and sit properly, face to face with him so Rick can see him better; right now all he has is a muggy view of the man's forehead and eyes, which are captivating, but don't give much away about the rest of his appearance. "You didn't. But if you're sick, you can't be out there." Rick gestures to the lab, hoping Daryl understands that he's talking about the outside world. "You understand that, right?"

  
As if in slow motion, Daryl nods. "Not a kid," he says. "Don't have to talk like that."

  
"Okay. Sorry. I'm new here and I... I'm a little in over my head, to be honest."

  
"'s okay. I get it."

  
They start to chat - small talk at first, mostly Rick speaking with a few one-word responses from the other man. Rick tells him about his wife and son, leaving out a few choice details like Lori's episode with him this morning and that it's probably his fault that she blew up at him in the first place. He tells Daryl about his job, what he did before he came to the lab and what he intends on doing now. Daryl nods at all the right moments, the only indication that he's even hearing what Rick is saying. Rick takes it as a good sign that he hasn't lashed out yet, though, and he wonders distantly what the other scientists did to make Daryl that upset.

  
Almost imperceptibly, Daryl begins to relax. First, he lets go of his legs, drawing his arms in to his chest instead, and Rick doesn't even notice the motion at first. By the time he does, Daryl has dropped his legs to the floor and crossed them, and angled his body more towards Rick like he intends to give him his full attention. Rick stops mid-sentence and completely forgets what he's talking about, so enamored by Daryl's posture that his mind goes blank.

  
Daryl notices him staring and ducks his head, his tangled brown hair falling over his face and hiding his eyes.

  
"Sorry, I'm lost," Rick admits sheepishly. "What was I talking about again?"

  
Daryl shrugs, and the motion is so normal, so human that Rick feels like he's not even at work - like he just met this man and decided to have a conversation with him, outside of plexiglass walls and men in suits with test tubes and beakers in their hands. He's so caught up in the bizarre feeling of it all that a light tapping from outside of the glass startles him and he looks up to see Jenner on the other side, motioning between Rick and the supplies on the bed with a strained look on his face.

  
Oh. Rick had forgotten what he came here to do. He nods at Jenner and turns back to Daryl, who looks confused and more than a little bit guarded.

  
"Sorry, Daryl," Rick says, standing and stretching out the kinks in his joints from sitting for too long. "I have to go. If I could just get a little blood from you before I-"

  
Rick reaches for the syringe on the bed but Daryl stops him. "No," he says, his voice sharper and more raspy than before.

  
Rick looks back at Daryl, who's curled in on himself again, legs tucked against his chest and his entire posture radiating wild energy. Rick wonders what made him this way - he knows that just a day's worth of accidental mistreatment by a few scientists wouldn't make him so fearful, but it's more than that. He looks like a wild animal in a cage, not so much afraid as... feral. Ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, and Rick has just said suggested something he doesn't like. Rick senses a confrontation coming on and braces himself.

  
"Just one vial," he says, holding out his empty hands and motioning towards the syringe with one of them. "I promise. It won't even hurt, I've done this plenty of times before. Just a pinch, I swear it to you."

  
Daryl doesn't look convinced. Rick doesn't want to approach him, especially after what he's heard about his temper, but he really has no other choice. Talking alone doesn't seem to be doing the trick, and Rick has a job to do. He would hate to have to go back to Jenner empty handed after his first day on the job. What would that say about his work ethic?

  
He crouches back down to Daryl's level and takes a cautious step forward. Daryl flinches but doesn't move, and Rick takes that as a sign to keep going. He keeps his hands up, locking eyes with the brunet, and tries to look as non-threatening as possible. If Glenn were here he'd probably laugh at Rick's expression, but Daryl doesn't seem to mind; at least, he isn't running or fighting him, so Rick figures he's at least doing something right.

  
Just when he thinks he's finally made some headway with Daryl, Rick reaches for the syringe behind him and that's when two things happen almost simultaneously. First, Daryl makes a grab for him, thrusting his body forward and clawing at Rick wherever he can reach - his shoulders, chest, he even tries hitting him in the face, but his suit thankfully protects him from most of the blows. Rick tries to grab hold of his shoulders to push him back but Daryl is, for as skinny as he is, stronger than Rick and has him pinned down on the floor before Rick even registers that he's being attacked.

  
And second: two other scientists barge into the room and somehow manage to pull Daryl off of Rick, throwing him back into the corner and holding him there while a third man - Jenner, Rick realizes with a start - grabs Rick under the armpits and hauls him out of the room backwards. The door closes shut with a deafening bang and only once Rick is safe on the side do the other two scientists let Daryl go, grabbing the tools Rick left behind and running out of the room like they expect Daryl to jump on them too. But he doesn't. He just sits in the corner, head down and eyes roving again, and watches them leave.

  
The door locks with a click that echoes around the inside of Rick's suit. Jenner leads him away, one hand still firmly gripping Rick's upper arm.

  
"I told you that was a bad idea," he says once they're clear of the room and safe on the other end of the lab. "Nobody's managed to get more than a few words and more than a few punches out of him. He's a lost cause. The only reason we keep him here is because he came in covered in an infected's blood, and we still don't know what that can do. Until we know for certain that he isn't infected himself, we have no other options."

  
"I get it, doc, I really do. Can't you just sedate him or something?"

  
Jenner shrugs, finally letting go of Rick's arm. They've reached the decontamination chamber again, and the two of them step inside as the door clicks shut behind them.

  
"Nobody's gotten that close. I thought maybe you could, and you almost did, but..."

  
Rick nods solemnly, trying not to think about just how close to progress he was with Daryl. He had thought they were getting along well; he even managed to draw a smile or two out of the man. But there's something there, something ingrained into the very fibers of who he is, that makes it impossible for anyone to get too close. Maybe he was abused as a kid, or lived alone in the woods raised by wolves or something. Rick wishes he knew so he can do better next time, but he doubts there will even be a next time after what happened today.

  
The decontamination ends and the two of them step out into the first room, peeling off their biohazard suits and hanging them up on the hooks by the door. Jenner doesn't speak while he strips back down to his regular work clothes, and Rick doesn't press him. If there's something Jenner wants him to know about Daryl, he'll tell him - otherwise there's no point in asking.

  
He feels a sting in his shoulder and excuses himself to the bathroom, just to be safe. Jenner gives him an odd look but  lets him leave. When he gets there he looks in the mirror, seeing a gaunt face with a hard frown staring back at him, with nothing of the optimism he'd felt when he'd been talking to Glenn earlier. He tugs at the sleeve of his shirt, pulling it down over his bicep, and that's when he sees it: two thin, parallel lines drawn across the skin of his shoulder, one oozing a small pinprick of blood out of one end.

  
Daryl, he thinks. Now he has one more reason to pray the other man isn't infected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you this is a slow burn. Like molasses. But it'll happen eventually :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't yet, please check out my other Rickyl fanfiction. I just posted the first chapter. It'll be a slow burn like this one, so if you're into that, you might like it?

How Daryl managed to claw through his biohazard suit like that, Rick has no idea. He goes through every possible scenario in his head and comes to the conclusion that it doesn't really matter so long as Daryl doesn't get sick.

  
The disease is transmitted by blood, that much is common knowledge, but whether it's scratches or just bites hasn't yet been determined. Can the blood of an infected person pass on the virus, even if they haven't turned? It won't matter once he finds out that Daryl isn't infected. That's all that matters.

  
Rick stays at work late into the night, studying the blood of test subject nineteen under a microscope and going through his colleagues' paperwork on the virus, trying to make some headway on a cure. What he finds is nothing new - the virus attacks healthy cells and causes decay, shutting down the brain and major organs before inevitably causing death. And then, somehow, it brings the brain back to life, but only just. Only part of the brain. Enough to leave the victim with their very basic motor skills and instincts. It leaves them hungry, but only for one thing: raw meat.

  
Rick shudders as he pictures Daryl, blue eyes clouded white and skin translucent, attacking everyone in sight. Biting them, pulling chunks of skin out with his teeth. The image comes uninvited and squirms its way into Rick's brain until it's all he can think about. He pushes the stack of papers in front of him away and stands, rubbing at his temple with his fingers.

  
His phone rings, and he picks it up and answers it without bothering to look at the caller ID.

  
"Hello?"

  
"Rick." It's Lori. Rick sighs and holds the phone farther away from his ear, waiting for the inevitable argument. He checks his watch and finds that it's only nine-thirty-two. Plenty of time for him to get home if he wants to. He hadn't even thought about it, too caught up in his research and thoughts of Daryl, of all people. "Rick, I'm sorry."

  
That catches Rick completely off guard. Lori never, never apologizes, no matter whose fault anything is. She's too stubborn, and he doesn't dare force anything.

  
He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn't, so he asks, "What's wrong?" Like nothing ever happened. Like they weren't just spitting venom in each other's faces this morning. They've gotten really good at sweeping things under the rug, Rick thinks. Sooner or later it's all going to come crashing down, and maybe now's the time.

  
"I..." she begins, then stops, and Rick can hear a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line. "You have to promise me you won't get mad. Promise me."

  
He starts to say yes, I promise, but then thinks better of it. Whatever she has to say, he has the right to get upset. Just like she had the right to this morning, even though he still thinks she could have kept a more open mind about the whole thing.

  
"You know I can't make that promise, Lori."

  
She sucks in another breath that rattles through the phone. The way her voice wavers tells him that she must have been crying before she called him. That worries him too - Lori never cries. At least, not in front of him, not anymore.

  
"Lori, are you okay-"

  
"I'm pregnant."

  
She says it so quickly it takes a moment for the words to reach Rick's brain, for him to understand exactly what she's saying. And he should be happy - his wife is pregnant, they haven't had a child in nearly twelve years and now Carl is finally going to get to be the big brother he always wanted to be. But Rick doesn't know the last time he slept with Lori, knows it's been months at least. After Christmas, maybe, before the festivities died down and they went back to hating each other. Or her hating him and Rick taking it, because he really doesn't have an answer for her that won't hurt both of them.

  
"You're pregnant," he repeats, like he half expects her to change her mind and say no, nevermind, I'm not. Like maybe she's pranking him like she used to when they first met and were still very much in love. But she doesn't say anything, and he knows her silence is as much of a confirmation as her words could ever be.

  
"I'm sorry, Rick, I-"

  
"Whose?"

  
"What?" Her voice is calmer than he expects it to be, than he wants it to be.

  
"Whose baby is it, Lori?" he nearly shouts into the phone, then holds it away from himself and winces, picturing Dr. Jenner a few doors down listening in on his marital problems. He steadies himself and lowers his voice, then repeats, "Whose baby is it?"

  
He expects her to avoid his question, to hang up or change the subject or go back to apologizing like it means something. But she doesn't. Instead, she says "Shane Walsh," like she's reciting a pre-made speech, and Rick feels like the rug has finally been pulled out from under his feet.

  
His friend. His best friend, since kindergarten. They grew up together, in side-by-side houses; they went to college together and only parted ways when Shane decided to become a cop and Rick opted out of the police academy in favor of becoming a scientist. They still keep in touch - hell, they still go bowling every other Saturday. Shane was the best man at his wedding.  And now he's not only sleeping with Rick's wife while Rick is at work trying his best to provide for his family, but he's also gotten her pregnant?

  
"Shane," Rick repeats, barely even aware he's speaking. "Shane. How long? How long have you been sleeping with him, Lori?"

  
"You promised you wouldn't get mad, you said-"

  
"I did not! And I am mad. I have a right to be, you would be too if our situations were reversed. You know you would."

  
Lori makes a strangled noise like she's trying to speak but nothing's coming out. And what could she say anyway? That she's sorry? That it was a mistake? That sleeping with Shane behind Rick's back was an accident? There's nothing she can say that will make this situation any better for either of them, but especially for Rick. What's he supposed to do now?

  
He wracks his brain for the protocol to deal with this sort of issue, but it's not something he learned in school, not something he picked up at work or hanging out with his buddies on the weekends. How is he supposed to react to this kind of news, something so life-shattering that could even potentially leave him without a wife, a house, a son.

  
"You," he begins, drawing the word out while he tries to think of something to say. "You decided to tell me all of this over the phone?"

  
"It was a mistake, Rick, and if I could take it back, I would. I swear to you."

  
"That doesn't mean anything, Lori." Rick sighs, starting to feel more tired than angry. "If you really meant that, you wouldn't have done it in the first place."

  
"I'm sorry, I-"

  
Rick cuts her off, pressing the End Call button with more force than is necessary. He's bone-deep exhausted but his head is spinning so much he knows he won't be able to get any sleep tonight. Especially in a bed that isn't his own, since his only choice now is to stay the night in the lab and try to work things out with Lori in the morning.

  
Work things out. Like that's even possible. Lori has done a lot of things that have set Rick back on his heels, but nothing like this. He's not sure this is something they can ever get over. What's he supposed to do, raise Shane's baby like it's his own? Or step aside and let Shane take his life while he lives out of his own pockets, watch Shane live in his house, play with his son, kiss his wife?

  
Rick shudders and stands up, grabbing at the back of his chair for support. He looks around - the office is empty, and there are no movement outside that he can see. If anyone else is here, they're probably fast asleep by now.

  
Except maybe Daryl. Rick gets the feeling the brunet barely sleeps, or if he does it's with one eye open.

  
Rick is down in the lab before he even realizes he's moved, staring through the outside window and willing himself to go inside. He squints and peers in, seeing a flicker of movement in the back of the room. He'd bet money that it isn't number nineteen, so that leaves number twenty. Awake again in the middle of the night, just like Rick. Rick wonders if Daryl has trouble sleeping, or if something else is keeping him awake.

  
Rick has his key card in his pocket and he swipes it before he can overthink and talk himself out of going in. The door slides open and the lights flicker on. Rick pulls the biohazard suit he wore earlier out of the closet and fingers the shoulder, his hands running along the smooth edges of two short but obvious tears in the fabric. Rick's breath stutters in his lungs and he coughs. The room feels like it's spinning, and he shakes his head until it stops.

  
He can't be infected, not from something so simple. A scratch, that's all it is. And if he was infected, he'd be displaying symptoms by now, right? But Daryl isn't, and Jenner still seems to think he's going to get sick. And if he is, then Rick is, too.

  
Rick crumples up the suit and throws it in the trash, then pulls an unmarked new one from the rack and begins the process  of putting it on. His hands are shaking the entire time, and it takes him twice as long to strap the helmet to the rest of the suit as usual; he contemplates forgoing it completely, since he's already been exposed to whatever airborne pathogens are in the lab right now anyway, but that would be a breech of protocol. He doesn't want Jenner to pass by and see him without his suit on - he'd just be asking to be named test subject number twenty-one.

  
He'll tell Jenner about what happened if Daryl gets sick. But Rick doesn't think that's going to happen, and there's no point in throwing himself under the bus if he doesn't need to. Nobody else needs to know.

  
Daryl is waiting by the window by the time Rick makes it through the decontamination chamber and into the lab room. Rick wonders why until he sees that the lights in Daryl's room are on, too - even if he was asleep, Rick would have woken him up just by entering the lab. A wave of guilt washes over him, and he regrets his decision to come here. What was he thinking, coming to the lab in the middle of the night when every other sane person is supposed to be sleeping?

  
"Sorry if I woke you," Rick says when he reaches the window, not daring to enter the room again just in case Daryl decides to jump on him without the other scientists around to save him this time.

  
Daryl looks tired, as tired as Rick feels, with his puffy eyes and dark purple crescents underneath. He shakes his head immediately, tangled brown hair falling into his face.

  
He brushes his hair out of his eyes and says, "Didn't. Was already up. Can't sleep."

  
That's almost more words than Rick has heard out of Daryl's mouth so far. He smiles and takes a seat, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the window. Daryl kneels down in front of him, his posture stiff but far more relaxed knowing there's a layer of plexiglass between them.

  
Daryl clears his throat, startling Rick, and says, "Sorry 'bout earlier. Didn't mean to hurt you. Just freaked out, 's all. You okay?"

  
Rick nods, deciding it's for the best that he doesn't tell Daryl about the scratches. Not only would it make no difference in the long run, but it might make the other man feel guilty, and Rick doesn't want that.

  
"I'm fine," he says. "Doesn't even hurt. You just surprised me."

  
"Sorry," Daryl says again, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. "Not used to people coming in here. Or comin' that close."

  
Rick nods, understanding the other man's aversion to touch. He's met people like that, had to deal with them at work and in his personal life - people who don't like letting others get too close, physically.

Thinking about it now, he really should have seen the signs earlier. Daryl is like a walking stereotype for a person with contact issues.

  
"It was my fault. I should have realized I was getting too close. I hadn't even noticed, to be honest."

  
And he hadn't. Even now, he's sitting as close to the window as he can without physically pressing himself against it, his knees touching the bottom and his face just inches from the glass. And Daryl, on the other side, is seated as far away as he can be and still hear what Rick is saying, almost in the middle of the room, like he wants to put as much distance between them as possible even with a thick layer of glass separating them.

  
Daryl is a mystery, but he seems to be fine with talking to Rick, and Rick has all night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really is a slow burn. I'd forgotten how boring the first half of this story is. At least I update frequently?

Rick learns several new things about Daryl that first night.

  
They stay up until the early hours of the morning talking, and even though it's mostly Rick doing the talking and Daryl patiently listening and adding one-word answers when it's required, Rick does pick up on a few things.

  
First, Daryl's posture. It changes throughout the night, starting with him hunched over with tense shoulders and his head down. He relaxes after Rick starts talking, eventually bringing his head up and actually looking at him, but he never shifts to a more comfortable position even though Rick is certain that squatting on the floor with his legs drawn up must make his back ache after a little while. Daryl's body is always tensed, ready to spring into action even when there's no immediate threat present.

  
Then there's his brother, Merle. Daryl is reluctant to talk about him, probably because he's still grieving, but what he does say are mostly negatives. He tells Rick about all the trouble his brother got into, all the times he was put in jail (Rick nearly catches himself filing that away to ask Shane about later, but then remembers that he's mad at Shane and discards the thought). He stutters over his explanation of what happened the night he died, and Rick doesn't understand half of the garbled words he actually manages to get out.

  
Rick presses Daryl for more information about himself, realizing that he's spent most of the night talking about other people - Merle and Rick himself, mostly, with a few jabs at Jenner even though Daryl doesn't mention him by name.

  
Daryl is a mechanic. He lives in a trailer house he rented with his brother. He rides a motorcycle, and his face lights up just a little when he talks about it.

  
By the end of the night, Rick feels like he knows a lot about Daryl, and at the same time, nothing at all. Nothing really important, nothing specific. Just details anyone could have found out if they asked the right person. Hell, Rick could probably pull up a case file on test subject number twenty and find out all of that and a few things more. But he doesn't want to invade Daryl's privacy, and he figures he's lucky the brunet even agreed to talk to him at all. He wonders if it would have been a different story if he'd been inside of the room with him.

  
Rick doesn't go home the next morning. He figures Lori needs her space, and he definitely needs his, and that maybe a day away will soften the blow just a bit. He's also, inexplicably, very tired, finally exhausted enough to get some actual sleep. So he reclaims his bed at the end of the hallway and sleeps in his day clothes, thankful he'd at least had the forethought to bring an extra outfit for when he wakes up.

  
Just before he drifts off to sleep he hears it again, a shout from below that most definitely belongs to Daryl. He wonders if they're trying to draw his blood again. He wonders if there will ever come a time when he trusts Rick enough to let him do it.

  
\---

  
A gunshot wakes Rick up sometime in the early afternoon.

  
He's only heard the noise once or twice before - never been hunting and dropped out of police training before gun control was even brought up. He's heard it in shows and films, of course, and on occasion happened to be in the squad car when Shane went on a run, but he's never been this close to the sound. He recognizes it right away, though, and it startles him awake. He's in motion, standing and running down the stairs, before his brain has even caught up with what he's doing.

  
It came from the second floor, a single blast, and that scares him more than anything. Because Daryl and the other test subject are in there, and if something happened, if Daryl lashed out again and scared the men and they decided he's too much of a risk to keep alive...

  
Why do scientists even keep a shotgun on the premises? Is this new virus that much of a threat?

  
There's a dense crowd of people near the lab when Rick gets there, and he has to push past them to get to the window and close enough to look inside. The first thing he sees is Daryl, pressed against the window of his room and looking around frantically for the source of the noise. Rick breathes out a sigh of relief; he's grown kind of fond of the brunet and he's glad he's alright. But then he looks over to the next room over and that's when he sees it.

  
Blood. Spattered on the walls of her room, on the bed in the corner and a few drops flung into the window. A body on the bed, still and covered in a white sheet soaked through in one spot with the same dark red that's on the walls. Someone shot her, test subject nineteen. And by the looks of it, they shot her in the head.

  
A wave of nausea hits him and he doubles over, turning away from the window and holding his stomach like he expects he's going throw up. Several other scientists shoot him wary glances, but his vision has gone just blurry enough that he can't make out any of their faces. Someone puts a hand on his shoulder and guides him away from the group; he can't see who it is, but he's instantly grateful for the gesture.

  
"C'mon, man, let's get you out of here," the person tugging him along says, and Rick vaguely recognizes Glenn's voice. Relief floods him and he walks, bent over, until Glenn pushes him down into a chair and he realizes he's been led into the back offices. He stares at the table in front of him: a computer, shut down with a black screen, and a stack of papers neatly stapled in the upper left corner.

  
"Don't mind the mess," Glenn says, shifting the papers to one corner of the desk. "I was just finishing up some work when I heard..."

  
Rick nods, glad he's sitting because the motion nearly unbalances him. "Do you know why they...?" He swallows down a lump in his throat and is glad Glenn doesn't ask him to elaborate.

  
"She turned." Glenn pats at Rick's shoulder, then grabs a chair from the next desk and pulls it over to sit next to him. "She died last night and just a few minutes before they shot her she came back."

  
Jesus. Rick thinks about the night before, talking to Daryl, and the woman just one room over who was dying or dead the entire time. He shudders and Glenn puts his hand back on his shoulder, steadying him.   
"Who shot her?" he asks, looking at Glenn through the haze in his vision.

  
"Jenner," Glenn says, and Rick nods again. It makes sense; Jenner seems to be in charge of the test subjects and the second floor lab. "She was his wife."

  
It feels like the bottom drops out of Rick's stomach. He thinks about Jenner - the cold, clinical way he'd talked about the test subjects, when all along... she was his wife. It would be like if Lori...

  
"Hey, man, breathe!" Glenn says, shaking his shoulder gently. Rick focuses on his breathing until it's evened out, keeping time with the huffs of breath he can hear from Glenn beside him. "You've really never seen anything like this before, have you?"

  
Rick shakes his head. "I did paperwork, before. Never had to worry about people's lives. If I'd known she was his wife..."

  
He would have what? Tried to talk to her, given her the time of day he gives Daryl? Given Jenner his sympathy? Volunteered to shoot her himself after she died in the room right next to where he was talking to Daryl last night?

  
Nothing he could have done would have stopped it. Even if he had somehow managed to find a cure, she was long gone before he even got here.

  
It takes Rick a few minutes to calm himself down and another half hour of coaxing from Glenn before he manages to get himself up again and make his way back to the lab. By the time he gets there, the crowd has dispersed; only a few stragglers remain, clustered by the window.

  
"Welcome back," one of them, a young woman with wild blonde hair pulled back over one shoulder. "We were just betting on whether you were going to throw up or quit. Glenn?"

  
"Neither," Glenn says, stepping back and motioning between Rick and the woman. "Rick, Andrea. Andrea, this is Rick. New guy."

  
She nods and holds out her hand. He notices a fancy watch around her wrist but no wedding band on her finger. He takes her hand, and her grip is tighter than he would have guessed.

  
"Nice to meet you," she says, and it's curt, business-like. He gets the feeling that she holds at least some of the power in this place, next to Jenner. "Sorry you had to start out here with something like that. Not the first time I've seen it. What was it, number thirteen?"

  
"Fourteen," Glenn corrects, grimacing. For the first time, Rick grasps the magnitude of the situation. Daryl is number twenty, and the woman was nineteen; that means there were eighteen others before them, and none of them were cured.

  
"Fourteen. That was the worst, I think. Of course, I've been here since the beginning. Glenn started somewhere in the middle, didn't you?"

  
Glenn nods, looking uncomfortable. Rick glances between the two of them, feeling much more at ease than he did before.

  
"Hey," Andrea says after the conversation lapses. "I'll see you two around, alright?"

  
She waves them off without waiting for an answer, turning and walking back down the hall towards the offices Rick and Glenn just came from.

  
"I've got to go, too," Glenn says, patting Rick on the shoulder one last time. "See you around?"

  
"See you tomorrow."

  
After Glenn is out of sight - taking the opposite route as Andrea and making his way back outside the building - Rick turns back to the lab. He looks through the window, sees half a dozen other scientists working with microscopes and beakers and test tubes, all wearing biohazard suits and serious expressions. The need for a cure has increased with the loss of a test subject, let alone Jenner's wife.

  
Rick looks past the scientists and into the rooms beyond. The woman's room is empty now, her body gone, and the blood has been wiped clean from the walls and the window. The bed has been stripped of its sheets and blankets, everything clearly scrubbed and sanitized. Jenner is nowhere to be seen, but that's no surprise.

  
Rick's eyes rove automatically over to the room next door, where Daryl is, surprisingly, standing at the window watching everyone moving around outside. Rick expected to see him in the corner, or in bed, or even not there at all. It's a relief, but at the same time it leaves Rick feeling uneasy.

  
Daryl's eyes slide across the room until they meet Rick's, and he holds them there for a moment too long. Rick is the first to look away, trying not to think about what he saw in the brunet's eyes. Fear, pure and unmuted, and Rick doesn't blame him, because he's afraid too.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another filler chapter. My apologies. Expect an earlier update for the next chapter in exchange.

The day passes relatively quickly, with Rick working in the lab and trying his best not to look back at Daryl, who he knows is staring at him the entire time. The distraction is enough to keep him from doing his job properly. Every time he takes a sample of blood - the woman, Jenner's wife's blood, he realizes with a sick feeling in his gut - to the microscope he ends up staring into the lens without any real focus.

  
The day passes _too_ quickly, he realizes as he looks at the clock and learns that it's time to go home already, and if he could he would slow it down so that he never has to leave because he really, really doesn't want to go home. If he even has a home to go to anymore. Half of him expects to see Shane all moved in and his own things on the curb when he gets there.

  
The drive home is full of nerves and panic as Rick goes through all the scenarios he can think of in his head. Lori leaving him. Carl tell him to leave. Shane in the middle of it all, sleeping with his wife, having his children. It hurts just thinking about it, so he puts in the first CD his fingers touch underneath the console and he turns the volume up as high as he can bear. 

 

He turns the music down when he reaches the driveway, pulling in beside a car he distinctly recognizes as Shane's. Great. It's like a full-on intervention.

  
It's nine at night and the lights are out, all except for the living room overhead light that illuminates the closed curtains and casts a long shadow on the sidewalk outside. Rick looks at his watch, then back up at the house, and finally kills the engine and steps out of the car.

  
Lori and Shane are waiting for him when he enters the house, Lori sitting on the couch and Shane standing by the coffee table. Neither of them are talking, which is strange, but at least Rick doesn't feel like he's interrupted something. At least he didn't walk in on them making out or something. This is normal; this, he can deal with. He takes a deep breath, closes the front door behind him, and walks into the living room ready for a confrontation.

  
What he doesn't expect, however, is a hug. Lori stands and throws her arms around his neck, stretching up on her toes to reach him, and holds him tight like she's afraid he's going to disappear if she lets go. She smells just like he remembers - like peppermint and kitchen lemon and the strawberry shampoo she uses.

  
"I'm so sorry," she whispers in his ear, and the same feelings from their earlier phone conversation begin to resurface: anger, confusion, hurt and, underneath them all, a thin layer of regret. Like maybe, somehow, this is all his fault. Like he pushed her into sleeping with his best friend by working long hours, never being home, never wanting to get physical with her because he was always too tired, too overworked, not in the mood. He knows, deep down, that it's not true, that she made this decision all on her own and they're both grown-ups who need to be held accountable for their actions. But if he could go back and just give her the affection she deserves, he would.

  
Shane clears his throat a minute later and Lori lets go, stepping back and taking a seat again on the edge of the couch. She motions for Rick to sit down beside her but he doesn't. He feel more in control when he's standing, which is apparently the same thought Shane had because he too remains standing.

  
"Rick, brother, I'm sorry," Shane begins, and Rick wonders if that's all this night is going to be: a never-ending chorus of apologies. "It was a one-time thing and it'll never happen again. I shouldn't have done this to you, Christ, I wish I hadn't. You have to believe that I would take it all back if I could. I swear it to you, brother."

  
"I know," Rick says, and it's the truth. He knows these two people in front of him better than he knows himself, and he understands the guilt they must be feeling. He would feel it too, if he was in their position. But that doesn't change what they did, and that doesn't change the way Rick feels about it. They can't take that part back, no matter how many times they say they're sorry.

  
Shane seems to understand this because he shuts his mouth tight and doesn't speak the rest of the evening. He just stands there, at Lori's side like he's ready to defend her if it comes to that, but it doesn't. Rick doesn't even put up much of a fight. He thinks he should, but he's just too damn tired.

  
"Rick, it's not too late," Lori says, and he turns to her like he's forgotten she's even there. "We can still do something about it."

  
It takes Rick a moment to realize what she means by 'it,' and when he does a sick feeling twists in his gut. The baby. Of course.

  
"It's a _child_ , Lori," he forces out, thinking about Carl and the day they found out she was pregnant with him. "No. We're not going to do anything. You're going to have this baby, and then... We'll figure it out from there."

  
There's nothing to figure out, he thinks. He's not even sure if he loves his wife anymore, not like a man should, at least, but he's not willing to just let Shane have her. He's worked too hard for this marriage, for this family, to let it go that easily. The baby may not be his, but it's hers, and that's going to have to be enough.

  
"So, what, you're just going to raise this baby like it's your own?" Lori spits, and it feels more like a slap in the face than any of the other times she's tried to belittle him. "You know that's not going to work. You're not going to love it like you love Carl. It's not _yours_."

  
Shane stands silent in the shadows, his face unreadable. More than once Rick looks to him for support, an old habit he realizes is no longer appropriate here, but he says nothing.

  
"We'll figure it out," Rick repeats, even though he has no idea how they're going to do that.

  
For the first time it hits him that, here they are, just him and the two people who have been having an affair on him behind his back, talking almost like civilized adults about an issue that's too far above any of their heads. It's so strange, and so like them. Rick isn't sure why he ever pictured anything different.

  
"So I'm just going to have this baby."

  
"You're going to have this baby," Rick says, and that's that. She doesn't try to fight him on it, and Shane doesn't say a word. After a few minutes of tense silence Shane walks to the door, his footsteps creaking on the floorboards, and leaves. Rick watches him go out of the corner of his eye, more focused on Lori than anyone else, and he almost says something to his retreating back. But he doesn't, he lets him leave.

  
Rick and Lori sleep in the same bed that night, and it almost feels normal again. Almost.

  
\---

  
Rick knows something is wrong the minute he steps into work the next afternoon. It's a Friday, and for once he's actually looking forward to the weekend. He and Carl are going to a baseball game on Sunday - they originally planned on going with Shane, but Rick doesn't think he'll be up for it now. He hasn't even spoken to Rick since yesterday, no call, no texts, nothing. Radio silence. Rick has to hope it'll get better with time, because he honestly misses his best friend.

  
There's nobody on the first floor when he enters the building, which is strange; he's never seen the place so empty. His footsteps echo on the linoleum has he walks, up the stairs and to his designated floor. That's when he sees the crowd of people, clustered around the lab for the second day in a row, and his heart stutters in his chest.

  
Something big has happened again, and unless they've somehow managed to get ahold of another test subject since last night, it's only Daryl in there.

  
Rick pushes through the crowd and looks around for a familiar face, spotting the tall blonde Andrea nearest the window. He looks through but doesn't see Daryl anywhere, and that frightens him even more than the sea of people around him.

  
"What's going on?" he asks her. He searches her face for a clue, but her expression is carefully blank. She's used to this chaos, he notices. He isn't.

  
"It's number twenty," Andrea says, and Rick wishes they would start calling the test subjects by their names. Number nineteen died and he still doesn't know what else to call her in his head besides _Jenner's dead wife_. "He got sick."

  
Rick sways, and the world bottoms out beneath him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's an earlier update to make up for the last filler chapter :)

"Where is he?"

  
"What?"

  
"Where _is he_?" Rick repeats, with more force than necessary. Andrea looks at him like he's just grown a second head.

  
"In there," she says, pointing into the lab room. "In his room. He's been throwing up since this morning. Jenner wants to check his vitals but he won't let anyone near him."

  
Rick cranes his neck and can just see, through the thick plexiglass, a thin figure hunched over the toilet in the corner. He sighs in relief, but the feeling is short lived.

  
"He could just be _sick_ , though, right? Like the flu?"

  
Andrea shrugs. "Maybe. But I doubt it. If he'd just let us take his blood, we'd know for sure, but..."

  
"I'll do it," Rick blurts out before he can stop himself. "He knows me now. Maybe he'll let me."

  
Andrea rolls her eyes, but he can see a small smile playing at her lips. "It's your funeral, buddy."

  
Rick nods, steeling his resolve. He can do this. He couldn't the other day because Daryl didn't know him then, thought he was just another scientist who only wanted him for his blood. But now they've talked, properly, a whole night of conversation, and that has to mean something, right? Maybe Daryl trusts him now. Or at least enough to keep him still for the minute it takes to draw his blood.

  
Rick pushes through the crowd and into the lab, pulling on a suit as quickly as he can and rushing through the decontamination room. There are fewer scientists in the lab than there are outside, but they're all hard at work. None of them are paying Daryl any attention, their backs turned to him, scribbling notes on leaflets of paper and examining microscopic specimens. That's what Rick _should_ be doing; that's what he's being paid to do. But he's also being paid to cure the disease, not just study it, and for that he needs Daryl. If he's really sick, then he's valuable.

  
Rick isn't the praying type, stopped going to church years before Carl was born, but he says a quick prayer in the back of his mind that it's just the flu. Just in case.

  
Daryl is still curled up over the toilet when Rick enters his room, leaving the syringe on the counter outside until he can be sure Daryl is willing to let him use it. Rick knocks on the inside of the door and Daryl looks up, startled. He looks terrible.

  
Daryl's face is gaunt, cheeks sunken in and eyes hollow. He's pale, sickly, and his hair is pasted to his forehead with sweat. He looks like a small breeze could knock him over; Rick doubts taking his blood would be very difficult, even without asking, but he hopes it doesn't come to that.

  
"Hey, Daryl," he says, keeping his voice low, both to avoid startling Daryl again and just in case the brunet has a headache. "You don't look so good."

  
"No shit," Daryl croaks out, one arm slung over the toilet bowl and the other around his waist. His knees are tucked underneath him and his shirt is soaked at the neck with perspiration.

  
"Sorry," Rick says. "I heard you woke up sick this morning? You seemed fine yesterday."

  
Daryl shrugs, swallowing so loudly Rick can hear it from across the room. Rick takes a step towards the bed, hands up so Daryl can see that they're empty, and sits on the edge of the bed closest to Daryl. The brunet doesn't protest, but he looks so weak Rick can't even imagine him putting up much of a fight. Rick isn't a very strong person, part of why he chose a career in science over police work, but Daryl is shaking like a leaf and Rick knows he'd win if it came down to a fight.

  
"Are you okay?" Rick asks, and he hopes Daryl understands that he means more than just the sudden sickness.

  
Daryl pauses, breathing heavily, and finally answers, "No." Rick waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn't.

  
A green tint creeps up Daryl's neck and he leans over the toilet, retching. Nothing but saliva comes up and he wipes at his chin with his sleeve, sitting back down on trembling legs.

  
"Didn't want to be here," he finally says, voice raspier than usual. Rick sits up straighter and gives him his undivided attention. "Wanted to give Merle a proper burial, you know? A casket and a headstone and all the shit that goes with it. They told me they burned his body. S'not fair. Told them that but they don't care what I think."

  
Rick feels a pang of pity for the other man, and at the same time, just a spark of animosity towards his fellow scientists. They had no right to do what they did, even if it was for the good of the general public. The least they could have done was told Daryl that his brother was buried, or given him Merle's cremated remains. They could have done _something_ , but instead they just locked Daryl up in this tiny cell-like room for days without his consent. Even if he's sick, and even if it is the Walker virus, he's still a human being and he still deserves better.

  
"I'm so sorry, Daryl," Rick says, wanting nothing more than to reach out and comfort the other man, but he knows better now. "For what it's worth, I care. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

  
"You just want my blood. 's all you care about."

  
"That's not true." Rick holds up his hands, waving them until he knows he's caught Daryl's attention. Daryl's eyes are unfocused and nearly crossed, but he's staring at Rick with a determination Rick is surprised he can even manage in his current state. "Look, I didn't bring anything in here. I just came to talk. To see if you're alright. That's all."

  
"'m fine. You can go now."

  
Rick sighs, flexing his gloved hands and shifting position on the bed. "I'm not leaving, not just yet. Figured you could use the company."

  
Daryl rolls his eyes and Rick smiles, reveling in the normalcy of the moment. Daryl seems more at ease than Rick has ever seen him, even though he's unsteady and looks like he's about to collapse. Maybe all he needed was someone to talk to. Rick imagines being in his shoes, being captured by a group of men in biohazard suits and taken to a laboratory to be studied. Being stared at through a window all day, no privacy, no books to read or television to watch or family to visit. And all of this just after his brother died, without even having the time to grieve. Rick would have gone stir crazy after the first day; he can understand why Daryl jumps on whoever comes after him asking for his blood. He wonders if anyone else has tried to befriend Daryl, but he knows just from the brunet's reaction that the answer is no.

  
"Tell me about your brother," Rick presses, leaning down with his elbows on his thighs. "What was he like?"

  
Daryl coughs, the movement making him shiver. "Merle was an ass most of the time," he says, shrugging. "But he was good people. Taught me to hunt, gave me my first bow. Helped me buy my bike. He was a druggie in with a bad crowd, though. Tough as nails, my brother, but he was dumb as shit too."

  
Rick smiles at the fondness in Daryl's voice and he wonders if the man has any other family, anyone else who might be missing him right now, or if it was just him and Merle. And now just him.

  
"How did he die?" Rick asks, then realizes what he said and backtracks. "Sorry, I was just - you don't need to tell me. Not if it's hard to talk about."

  
"'s not. We was hunting and came across a... Walker? 's that was you guys call them?" Rick nods, and Daryl continues. "Came across one and Merle thought he was tough shit, poking it with a stick and cussing it out. Tried shooting it with my bow but it was fast too and it was on him 'fore I knew it. I shot it in the head but it got him in the neck, and he came back a few hours later."

  
Rick nods along with his story, picturing the event in his head. He can't imagine what that must have been like, watching someone you love being eaten alive and then seeing them come back as one of those things. And now he could be facing the same fate. He must be _terrified_. He's hiding it well, Rick thinks, but sooner or later it's all going to come out.

  
"I'm sorry," he says, because what else is there to say?

  
"'s okay. He went down fighting. He would'a wanted it that way."

  
Rick is just about to say something - probably to the tune of 'I'm really sorry' or some rendition of the same sentiment - when the door opens and two other men, dressed in identical biohazard suits, come into the room. One of them is Jenner, and he's holding a syringe in one hand and two empty vials in the other, and Rick immediately knows something bad is about to happen.

  
"Rick?" Jenner asks, surprise in his voice, as if he didn't see Rick from the window outside before he came in. "What are you doing in here?"

  
"Talking," Rick says. "To Daryl." He draws out Daryl's name, because he knows Jenner likes to call him subject number twenty and he thinks that's just unfair. Daryl is a person with a name and not just a statistic on a piece of paper.

  
"Ah," Jenner says, brushing off Rick's defensive attitude. "I need your help with something."

  
It's not a question, and Rick thinks that no matter what he says he's going to be coaxed into doing whatever Jenner wants him to do anyway. He works for the man, after all, no matter what his sudden affiliation with Daryl may be. He feels sorry for the brunet, that's all, but he's still a scientist. Jenner seems to realize that because he smiles, and it's wry and makes the hairs on the backs of Rick's arms stand up.

  
"I need you to help hold him down," Jenner explains, and Rick's chest constricts painfully. "We need his blood. Test subject nineteen's is no longer viable; we need something more... fresh. You understand."

  
Rick _does_ understand, no matter how much he hates the idea of pinning Daryl down like a specimen and forcing him into something he doesn't want. This is all for a cure, isn't it? Daryl should understand that. But Rick looks over at the brunet and sees his entire body tense like he's expecting a blow and he immediately deflates, all sense of duty drained out of him by a sudden need to protect this man. Like he's known him for more than a few days, because there's something about him that makes him look so small, and Rick is afraid that one more push will make him disappear completely.

  
Rick leans over to Jenner and whispers, hoping Daryl doesn't hear him, "There's got to be another way. We can talk to him. Convince him. I can do it. Just give me a little more time."

  
"You've seen the news reports," Jenner says, and Rick has. "You know time is something we can't afford to waste right now. People are getting sick. What would you do if it was someone you know, your wife? Your son?"

  
It's a low blow, Rick thinks, but Jenner just lost his wife from the same disease they're trying so desperately to cure, and Rick can't fault him for speaking the truth. If it was Lori or Carl, Rick would be devastated, but also more determined than ever. Enough to do something crazy, or stupid, or cruel. He would do anything to prevent the same tragedy from happening again.

  
Daryl looks frantically between Rick and Jenner, and understanding passes over his face; he knows there's no way he's going to get out of this. He sits up and pushes back against the wall, his shoulders shaking with the effort of staying upright, and holds his hands out defensively. His arms are trembling.

  
"I'm sorry, Daryl," Jenner says, and it's the first time Rick has seen him address the brunet by his name. Daryl bristles like a feral cat and curls his legs in tighter against his chest. "You'll thank me for this later, when we've found a cure. Maybe even one for you."

  
Jenner nods at Rick and the other man in the suit, an older gentleman Rick recognizes only in passing, with dark salt-and-pepper hair and stubble dotting his chin. Rick and the dark-haired man both approach Daryl, who backs away until he's in the corner. The other man immediately grabs hold of Daryl, wrapping his arms around his chest and pinning him down, but Rick hesitates.

  
"Just hold his arm," Jenner says, noticing Rick's discomfort. "Either one. Doesn't matter."

  
Rick takes Daryl's right arm and pushes his sleeve up gently, holding onto him with one hand on his bicep and the other around his wrist. Any other day, Daryl would have fought back with enough strength to push both men off of him, or at least pull his arm out of Rick's gentle grasp. He struggles, clawing at the air and shaking his head, kicking out with his legs like a toddler having a tantrum, but nothing stops Jenner from sticking the needle in his arm. Daryl gasps as it goes in and the fight leaves him; he sags against the wall, his arm going limp in Rick's hands, and Jenner draws his blood without so much as a complaint from the brunet.

  
"You can let him go now," Jenner says, backing away, and Rick blinks and realizes the dark-haired man has already left the room. Jenner is standing at the door watching him, and Rick is sitting next to Daryl, still holding onto his arm. He quickly lets go and stands, but he doesn't leave with Jenner.

  
"Daryl, I'm sorry," Rick says once Jenner is gone. Daryl doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at him. Rick's heart feels like it's going to bust out of his ribcage and he feels so guilty it's making him nauseous.

"You have to understand, it was for-"

  
"Get out."

  
Daryl's voice is so low and quiet Rick has to strain to hear it.

  
"Daryl..."

  
"Out. Now."

  
Rick nods, realizing it's not worth the fight, and backs up until he hits the door. Daryl is staring at the floor, in the same position in the corner of the room. Rick watches him from the window for a few minutes after he leaves, but the brunet doesn't move an inch.

  
When Rick checks on him a few hours later he's still there, but his legs are pulled up to his chest again and his arms are around his knees. The same position he was in when Rick first met him. It's like any progress Rick made with him is gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Rick patch things up. Sort of. Will things ever actually get interesting? Let's hope so.

Jenner was right - the news is getting worse every day. Rick reads an article on his phone during his break about a group of police officers who had apprehended a house full of Walkers, shooting them down in front of a street filled with onlookers. People are getting restless, scared; they're clogging up freeways trying to get away to the bigger cities, as if that's going to somehow protect them from the virus. The military have been called in to areas with denser populations, like Atlanta, and are stationing themselves just outside of city limits. There's at least one public shooting a day, and rioters have even started putting up signs outside of the lab, like they expect that the more they protest the faster a cure will come.

  
Rick pours himself into his work. The long hours are easy for him, the pressure keeping him on his feet, moving around the lab like he's been there his whole life. He studies microscopic variations of the disease, looking for a pattern, but it's unlike anything he's ever seen before. Not only does the virus attack healthy cells, but it replaces them, duplicates itself to look like them and takes over the host's body from the inside. It's like a cancer, but instead of killing its host, it keeps them alive, even beyond death. It stimulates the brain after the rest of the body has stopped functioning, but only parts of it - the instinctual parts, the animalistic urge for food and the drive to do whatever it takes to get it.

  
It turns _people_ into _monsters_. Rick has seen them on the television - their eyes foggy and white and their bodies pale, covered in wounds that are meant to kill but somehow they just... keep going. The only way to stop them is to destroy their brains, the only living part of them. Rick pictures Jenner, having to stand over his sick wife, watch the life leave her eyes, and shoot her in the head. Then he imagines Lori in the same position, then, inexplicably, the images shifts to Daryl, clawing at the windows with blood dripping down his chin, and he shudders so hard that the beaker he's holding slips from between his fingers and lands on the table with a thud that brings several pairs of weary eyes upon him.

  
Jenner approaches him several hours after the incident with taking Daryl's blood. Daryl still hasn't spoken to him, but Rick has been too absorbed in his work to try to make him. He figures Daryl needs some time to cool off, to see things from the scientists' point of view and understand the reason that they had no other choice but to do what they did. After he thinks on it for a little longer he'll come back around. He has to.

  
"Rick," Jenner greets him, nodding in his direction. He's holding a vial of Daryl's blood; Rick knows better than to ask where the other one went. "Thank you for helping us earlier. I'm glad you're here."

  
"Glad to be here," he replies, and it's mostly the truth. Some part of him would rather be back doing paperwork, away from the mess and the bone-deep exhaustion and the pressure of trying to save the world. But he can't think like that, because there are people out there who need him, who rely on the work he's been doing. He feels more important than regretful.

"I need to speak with you alone," Jenner says, motioning for Rick to join him on the far side of the lab nearest the exit. Rick follows him, sending one last glance backwards at Daryl, who still hasn't moved from his corner. 

After they've settled themselves as far away from the rest of the few scientists still working at such a late hour, Jenner turns back towards Rick and shakes the tiny vial in front of him. Rick watches the liquid inside move around, coating the inside of the glass bright red.

  
"I examined his blood this morning," Jenner explains, cupping the vial between his hands and turning it in his fingers. "And I found several similarities between it and... subject number nineteen's."

  
Rick can feel his own pulse quickening, his heartbeat hammering against the inside of his throat. He prays to whatever entity may be listening that Jenner isn't about to say what Rick is thinking, what he's been hoping for days isn't true. That Daryl is sick; that Rick himself may be sick, may have been spreading the disease around for days without even knowing it.

  
"And?" he presses, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He hopes that Jenner can't see how rattled he is, but the other man seems far more interested in the vial between his fingers than Rick himself.

  
Jenner clears his throat and looks up at Rick. "He's infected," he says shortly, dismissively despite the magnitude of his discovery. "He's sick. He's going to turn. It's only a matter of time."

  
\---

  
Shane calls an hour before the end of Rick's shift, interrupting him in the middle of his paperwork. Rick has spent the better half of the last couple of hours stewing in his own misery, trying to focus on his job but thinking instead about the earth-shattering news he'd just received. The disease may not be airborne - it probably isn't, looking at the evidence he's collected in the last few days and the rate at which it's spreading outside of the walls of the lab - but it has to be spread somehow. And everything he's learned about infectious disease points to blood: scratches, bites, the blood Daryl was infected with that came from skin contact with his infected brother. And Daryl scratched him, whether he meant to or not. He drew blood.

  
Shane is frantic when Rick answers the phone, speaking above him before he can even get out a proper 'hello'.

  
"Brother, I know we're not on the best terms right now but I need to talk to someone about what I just saw and I figured you were as good as anybody because you know about it more than I do and-"

  
"Shane!" Rick says loudly, holding the phone away from his ear for a moment. Shane stops abruptly, his heavy breathing crackling static through the phone line. "We're okay. It's fine. Just start from the beginning, okay? What happened?"

  
Shane breathes out loudly and starts over, a forced calm in his words. "It's Morales."

  
"The guy from down the block? What about him?"

  
"I don't know," Shane admits, and Rick can picture him rubbing at the back of his neck as he talks. "I got a call about an hour ago, right? A domestic disturbance, standard stuff. And I knew it was him before I got there but I didn't figure him for the violent type, but it was his wife that called it in and she sounded panicked and all."

  
Shane pauses and Rick waits patiently for him to continue.

  
"So I got there, right, and the lights were all on and his kids weren't home, thank God, at a friend's house or something, I didn't ask. But I went inside and they were both in there, and Morales was standing over his wife and there was blood everywhere, and I thought, maybe a shotgun or a knife or something but then I looked closer, brother, and I swear I wish I'd never taken this call. Somebody else should'a done it. I've seen a lot of shit on the force but this was just crazy."

  
"Shane, calm down. You've got to breathe, brother. Where are you right now?"

  
"In my squad car outside the station. I haven't gone in to file the report yet. Not sure what to say, even."

  
"No offense, Shane, but if it's just a standard domestic disturbance, why did you call-"

  
"He was _eating_ her, Rick. Gnawing at her face like it was a damn pizza or some shit. His eyes were all white and there was blood _everywhere_. I tried to talk him down but he came at me and I've never been more terrified in my _life_. So I shot him like they said in training to do with those _things_ , but he just kept coming. My partner came in and gunned him down, he took a headshot and that's what finally stopped him."

  
Rick pictures the event in his mind, and he can understand his friend's fear; he would have been too terrified to move, let alone try to fight Morales, or whatever the thing that took over his body was. Jenner had to put his own wife down, and that was in close quarters after she had just turned, before she had the chance to hurt anybody. Rick could never do something like that, not even for somebody he loves like his wife or his son. Even Shane; Rick would rather turn himself than watch someone he cares about become a monster.

  
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that, brother," Rick says, listening to Shane's breathing slow to a more normal pace over the phone. "I've never had to see it up close. It's happened, but I've never been there. Not like that."

  
"Christ," Shane sighs. "I shouldn't have even told you about it, it's classified or some shit, but I know you're into that kind of stuff and I know you would want to know. What it's like. Because I sure as hell didn't and I wish I never had to. This is some kind of apocalyptic stuff, isn't it? How are things on your end?"

  
"No better than yours. Jesus, I wish I had better news for you. Morales of all people, shit. His wife was in Lori's spin class, did you know that? And she doesn't even know. What am I supposed to tell her?"

  
There's a pause on the other end and Rick checks to make sure Shane hasn't hung up or been disconnected. But no, there's his name, highlighted in green at the top of his phone screen. It's a full minute before Shane speaks again - Rick counts.

  
"I'm sorry about Lori," Shane says, and he sounds genuinely apologetic. "I didn't know what to say last night. I didn't trust myself to say anything. But I mean it, I'm sorry about everything. I was lonely and she told me you worked too much and didn't pay her enough attention and I bought it, and shit, that's no excuse is it? But I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, man. If it's the last thing I do."

  
If there's one thing the revelation about Daryl's infection and Rick's possible immanent demise has done, it's given Rick a whole shitload of perspective. Things like what happened between Lori and Shane don't matter as much now that he knows he may only have a few days, max, before he's on death's door or worse. Sure, it still hurts like hell and he may never trust Lori the same way again, but he knows Shane like a brother and that much hasn't changed. His marriage to Lori was faltering already; maybe this is just the push it needed to set it straight again, one way or another.

  
"Don't worry about it right now," he tells Shane. "I'm not. We've both got bigger things to deal with. Lori's fine, I'm fine, you're going to be fine once you calm down a little more. Carl doesn't need to know. And we're just going to have to figure out a way to move forward, alright?"

  
"Christ, man, what did I ever do to deserve a brother like you?"

  
Rick smiles, a genuine smile, the first since he heard the news about Daryl. Hell, the first probably since before he confronted Lori and Shane about their affair. And he thinks maybe, maybe things are going to be okay.


	10. Chapter 10

Rick doesn't go home that night. He calls Lori and tells her that, yes, he realizes it's short notice and yes, he knows it's inconsiderate and it's what got them into this whole mess in the first place, but he has to stay late at work and is going to have to spend the night. The truth is, he's scared he's going to screw up and somehow get Lori and Carl both infected along with him, so until he knows for sure that the scratch he got is clean, he's going to keep his distance. Just in case.

  
He doesn't _feel_ sick. But Daryl didn't either until all of a sudden he was, so Rick knows he isn't in the clear just yet. Jenner isn't suspicious, at least, and that's a good thing because if he was Rick would probably be in one of those window rooms in the lab right now instead of the much more comfortable, private room on the top floor. He doesn't need to worry, he tells himself, as long as he stays away from other people as much as possible and avoids physical contact. He'll just keep to himself and wait it out.

  
He wishes Daryl wasn't still upset with him because he finds himself staring at the ceiling at midnight feeling inexplicably _lonely_. He can't call Shane or Lori because they're both in bed, and nobody else who opted to stay the night is awake either, because Rick doesn't hear any movement on his floor and he checked the lab before he went to bed and it was empty. Except for Daryl, who was huddled in his corner with his hair plastered to his forehead and sweat soaking through his clothes. Rick could tell he still didn't feel well, but he wasn't throwing up anymore, and some of the color had returned to his face. But Rick knows it's only a matter of time, since he's infected. He's seen case studies and paperwork his colleagues had done on test subject number nineteen, and he knows that the fever gets worse towards the end. It kills a person just like a normal infection does if left untreated, and not even the strongest antibiotics they have can even slow it down.

  
They've tried everything, and they're starting to run out of options. Rick thinks about the chance of them finding a cure this late in the game as he stares at the lined tile overhead. It's spreading so _fast_. Rick is overwhelmed just thinking about it, but he knows that the longer he lays here in the dark, the more likely it's going to remain on his mind. So he stands, with no real purpose, and paces the room until his feet automatically take him down the stairs and towards the second floor.

  
Daryl is awake when he gets there - of course - walking circles around the room. At least he's moved from the corner, Rick thinks, pulling on a suit and making his way into the lab. The lights come on as soon as he enters, flickering for a moment before bathing the room in fluorescent white light. Daryl looks up through the window, his eyes narrowed, and watches Rick approach. He doesn't look surprised to see him here, but his expression is guarded, and Rick knows that convincing him to let him in isn't going to be easy.

  
"Daryl," Rick greets, crouching down by the window so that he's lower than Daryl, hoping to look as non-threatening as possible.

  
Daryl grunts in response but doesn't move, standing awkwardly by the window with his arms crossed. They didn't even bandage his arm after Jenner took his blood, Rick realizes, staring at a pinprick of blood on Daryl's sleeve.

  
"Listen," Rick begins, figuring it's best to get it out of the way as quickly as possible if he wants to move past it. "I'm sorry about earlier. But Jenner didn't give me much choice, and you know how much we needed it. This is for a cure, Daryl. You haven't been outside, you haven't seen what's happening out there. It's getting so much worse. We need to do this fast or we're gonna run out of time."

  
Rick's voice changes abruptly from bargaining to pleading. Daryl is staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face, lips drawn into a tight line and shoulders taut.

  
"'s not you I'm mad at," Daryl finally says, dropping his arms to his sides and shifting on his feet. "Not even them. I get it, you know. Not stupid. 's me, I knew it was gonna be positive. Infected. Knew it, and I didn't want them to know it. 'Cause I'm never getting out of here now, and that scares the shit out of me."

  
Rick blinks and stands. "Can I come in?" he asks, fully expecting Daryl to say no and tell him to leave. Daryl nods, a jerky movement that Rick barely catches.

  
The door opens and Rick enters, taking a seat on the end of the bed. Daryl remains standing, his back to the window on the opposite end of the room.

  
"They're not bad people," Rick says once he's settled. "We're not out to get you, Daryl. We don't want to hurt you, but it's not safe out there. For you or for them."

  
"I know. Doesn't make it any easier, though."

  
"No," Rick agrees. "It doesn't. It's not fair. It wasn't fair when it was your brother, either. Nobody deserves to go out that way."

  
Daryl sighs and sits down, keeping his back to the wall. He pulls his legs up to his chest and leans his chin on his knees.

  
"I lied," he says after a moment, his voice so low Rick has to still his breathing to hear it. "About Merle. It wasn't a Walker that took him out. He was stabbed by some piece of shit dealer he owed money to or some shit. Found him there in the yard, all bloody with a knife wound and he was already gone. Was crying over him like a pussy when he came back, grabbed my hair and tried to bite me. Took the same knife that killed him and made it final."

  
"You said he got bit," Rick says, confused. "If it wasn't a Walker that killed him, how did he get bit?"

  
"That's the thing," Daryl says. "He didn't. I lied 'cause I figured none of you would believe me if I told the truth. 'm right, aren't I?"

  
Rick shakes his head slowly, still processing what he just heard. "I believe you. I just... That's not possible? He had to have gotten bit somewhere. Did you check him?"

  
"Did. No bites. I swear."

  
"I believe you," Rick repeats, but the truth is he has no idea who to believe anymore. Because if Merle wasn't bitten, then the scientists who took him in - Jenner, Rick thinks - would have seen that too. Maybe it was his stab wound that infected him, maybe there was blood already on the knife - Walker blood. But here they are, studying bite marks and the spread of the virus, completely ignoring a factor that could be the difference between a cure and the damn apocalypse. It's been right under their noses the entire time, and none of them had a clue.

  
Rick looks at Daryl, at his dark blue eyes and flushed face, and he thinks that maybe there's a little bit of hope in there, too. Maybe if this virus is less predictable, then Daryl might not be sick after all. It could just be the flu, Jenner could have gotten it wrong. Rick might be okay, they both might. Rick has to think that there's still hope, because without it, what's the point in even trying?

  
\---

  
Rick goes home the next morning. It's a Saturday, and he's off work for the weekend. He debates staying at the lab, to minimize his chance of getting his family sick if he's infected too, but he's already been around them since Daryl scratched him. If it was an airborne pathogen, they would have been exposed already. As long as he doesn't get too close to anyone, he thinks he's safe going home for a couple days. Even if he has to barricade himself in his room the entire time.

  
It's surprisingly hard saying goodbye to Daryl. Technically, he doesn't, he just waves at him on his way out and figures that's good enough. But he's gotten used to the man, their midnight talks and the way he's just always _there_ when Rick needs someone to talk to. But the hardest part is that he might actually be saying _goodbye_ to the brunet. He's seen how fast the disease progresses. Weekend might be all it takes. By Monday, it might be too late.

  
Rick tries not to think too hard about it. They still don't know nearly enough about the virus; there's still a chance that an infection might not be a death sentence. Daryl has been given enough antibiotics to cure an elephant - Rick just has to hope he'll take them. And that they'll work, miraculously, despite evidence that suggests they're nothing more than a placebo at this point.

  
Rick passes by the Morales' house on his way home. It looks stunningly ordinary, the blinds shut and the yard perfectly manicured, like the family might still be inside, eating breakfast around the kitchen table. Rick makes a mental note to ask Shane about the children when he gets the chance. Thankfully they weren't home when their parents died, but it still has to be hard on them. Rick imagines Carl in their shoes, coming home to an empty house with blood stains on the floor and the knowledge that his parents are never coming home. The Morales children are younger; they have a better chance of bouncing back, but it's going to take longer.

  
Shane's car is in the driveway when Rick gets home. He parks beside the beige sedan and kills the engine, sitting in the car for a minute before opening the door. If Shane was here for another secret meeting with Lori, he would have done it when he knew Rick wasn't going to be home. They both know his hours. Besides, it's a weekend day - Carl is home. They wouldn't do anything with Carl in the house. Relief floods Rick's body, followed closely by a hint of trepidation. If Shane isn't here for Lori, then he's here for Rick. Which, based on the last time they spoke, probably isn't a good thing.

  
"Hey, brother," Shane greets when Rick steps through the door. He reaches up to put a hand on Rick's shoulder but Rick steps away, brushing his back against the wall and side-stepping Shane to get into the living room. Shane shoots him an odd look but doesn't comment.

  
Lori is sitting on the couch again, and the entire scene is so familiar it could have taken place two days ago, except it's daytime now and Rick can clearly see Carl sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast at the counter. He's holding a portable video game and playing it while he eats, oblivious to everything around him. Lori never lets him play games while he's eating, unless she wants to talk without worrying about him overhearing.

  
"What's going on?" Rick asks, sitting next to Lori on the couch but keeping a couple feet of distance between them. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, Shane, but shouldn't you be getting ready for work?"  
"Called in sick," Shane says, like that explains everything. "Truth is, I didn't want to go in today. Not after yesterday, and what I told you about was just the beginning."

  
Rick shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. Like talk of Walkers is targeted at him in particular, even though he's just one scientist in an entire facility that's working on the cure. But, somehow, he feels personally responsible for it, like it's his fault there are still Walkers on the streets. Like Daryl getting sick was his fault; like it would be his fault if his family, if Lori and Carl and Shane got sick.

  
"What happened?" Rick asks. Shane rubs at the back of his head before answering, a nervous habit of his that has Rick on edge immediately.

  
"Got three more cases after I got off the phone with you. One, a wife turned and ate the family dog. The other two were men terrorizing the streets, and it took six officers to take them down. Headshots, man. It's got to be the head. I was on one of the calls, the last one, and there were people screaming everywhere, the streets were filled and everyone had their phones out. The videos were on the news last night, man. They captioned them something about the damn apocalypse, like there's not gonna be a cure for this one."

  
Shane gives Rick a pointed look, holding his gaze until Rick looks away.

  
"Tell me there's gonna be a cure, brother. You've gotta tell me that right now."

  
Rick doesn't know what to say. He can't lie to these people, people he loves more than anything in the world. It wouldn't feel right, and they know him just as well - they'd see right through him. But he can't tell them the truth, that no matter what they try, nothing is working and they all know they're running out of time. He can't tell them about number nineteen, or Daryl getting sick, or the scratches on his shoulder that have healed into thin lines that leave him guilty every time he looks in the mirror. He can't tell them that their lives are about to change; that they're going to die or worse and it's all his fault because he failed at the one job he was given. He can't lie, but he can't tell them the truth either.

  
So he stays silent, staring down at his hands like they hold all the answers. His fingers twist together and he rubs at his palms. It's a hot day and he's sweating; he can feel curls forming in his hair, perspiration dripping down the back of his neck.

  
"I can't say," he finally says, opting for ignorance over truth. "Classified, like you said. Not supposed to talk about it."

  
"Not supposed to-? We're neck deep up shit creek and you're not supposed to talk about it?"

  
"Shane," Lori says, her voice low in warning. "Calm yourself."

  
Shane takes a deep breath, looking like he's holding back his anger with everything he has. His rage makes him a damn good police officer, but sometimes Rick worries he's going to say the wrong thing and send him over the edge. He backtracks, deciding that the truth is better than nothing.

  
"We don't know," he says. "What causes it. How to cure it. Hell, even how it's spread. Could be a virus, a bacteria. But we're trying, Shane. You've gotta believe that, brother."

  
"That's it," Shane says, stepping forward and grabbing Lori by her upper arm. She pulls it away from him like his touch burns, narrowing her eyes and sitting back down a few inches closer to Rick. "We've got to get out of here. Carl!" he calls intot he kichen. Carl looks up from his game curiously. "Go pack your stuff. Anything you can fit in a bag."

  
Carl looks at Rick, his attention taken away from the game. Rick shakes his head at him, almost imperceptibly, and Carl goes back to his cereal.

  
"This is crazy, Shane," Rick says, looking at Lori like he expects her to agree with him. "We can't just leave. Where are we supposed to go? We're in the city, we're protected here. There's a military base just outside city limits. We're safe here."

  
"And how long are we going to stay safe, brother? You said it yourself, there's no cure coming. We're sitting ducks here, we're just waiting for what happened to Morales to happen to all of us!"

  
Rick swallows down a lump in his throat at the mention of his deceased neighbor, trying hard not to think about the very same disease that may be pumping through his own veins right now. Instead, he thinks about Daryl, still locked up in the lab waiting for a cure, and he knows he can't leave. Not if there's still a chance for people like him, not if he can still do something about it.

  
"I'm not going to just leave, Shane. Not without at least trying. If I can do something about this, it's my job to try. You have to understand that."

  
Shane throws his hands up in the air, looking at Lori.

  
"I agree with my _husband_ ," she says, drawing out the last word like a curse. Shane deflates immediately, dropping his hands to his sides.

  
"Fine," Shane says after a pause. "I'll give it a week to get better. But if this keeps happening, if _you_ can't find a way to stop it... I'm marching back in here and I'm taking you with me if it's the last thing I do. I swear to you, Rick. If there's even a chance that this _thing_ could make it in here, I'm getting you all out. _You_ have to understand _that_ , brother."

  
Rick nods, this throat tight. He's never felt more helpless, more hopeless than he does in that moment, and all he wants is to be back to last night, talking to Daryl like the world isn't about to end because he knows, deep down, that it just might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me why Rick goes home when he could be sick. It's his call. I had nothing to do with it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When will this story get interesting? Stick around to find out ;)

The world goes to shit on Sunday.

  
They're at the baseball game, just him and Carl, and it's nearly halfway over when it happens. They hear a scream from across the stadium, followed by a chorus of shouts from the same side. Rick can't see what's going on from where he's sitting, but the panic has him on his feet with Carl in town within seconds. People are scattering all around him, and the exits are clogged with those desperate to get out. The overhead monitor has gone blank, and Rick looks back to see that already half of the people in the stadium have dispersed onto the field, running from something Rick can't quite make out on the other end.

  
People are pushing him on both sides, clustered together like sardines, shoving everyone they can out of the way so they can get out first. Rick forgets that he's not supposed to be touching anyone, that he might be sick and he might be contagious and he could be putting other people at risk just by being here. He takes Carl's hand and pulls him in front of him, blocking him from the crowd with his arms.

  
"What's going on?" Rick shouts over the noise, the sound of people screaming and shoes squeaking on the rubber-lined staircases.

  
A man to his right turns and looks at him, his arm wrapped tightly around the waist of the woman next to him. She's pretty - curly blonde hair, bright green eyes, dressed modestly - but she's also crying, and that's what Rick notices about her first. She's sobbing into her sleeve, smearing her mascara all over her face and her clothes.

  
"There's two of them undead _things_ down there, maybe more," the man spits out, holding his wife closer.

  
"How did they get in?" Rick asks. "There are guards outside, I saw two when we were coming in."

  
The other man shrugs, pushing through the crowd a little deeper. Rick mimics his movements, shoving with his shoulders to get past another half dozen panicking sports fans.

  
About halfway to the exit Rick turns around, looking at the stadium and taking in the scene in front of him. Hundreds of people, all clustered together, some still in the dugout waiting for their chance to climb the stairs. And, across from the section he and Carl are in, he can see a few people, maybe three or four, collapsed on the ground. He can't be sure if they're dead or not, but the creatures hunched over them most certainly aren't.

  
Walkers - three of them. Rick has never seen one in person, and he's never heard of so many in one place before. He tries to shield Carl's eyes but the boy has already seen, is shaking like a leaf in his father's arms.

  
After a few minutes of waiting and trying to push past a sea of people who push him right back, Rick hears sirens in the distance. Shane, he thinks. Part of him hopes it isn't Shane, though; the poor man has been through enough Walkers in the last couple of days, and it's obviously got him shaken.

  
The cops bust through one of the exits, and the crowd miraculously parts for them to go through. There are four men in total, and none of them, thankfully, is Shane. Rick vaguely recognizes a friend of Shane's, though, an officer he met on one occasion at a party Shane dragged him to after college. He can't remember his name, but he knows this just means the news will travel down to Shane that much faster. And Shane will have one more reason to want to leave, because it could just as easily have been Rick and Carl in that other section of the stadium when the Walkers came in.

  
Three of the officers head down the stairs and across the stadium to handle the Walkers while the fourth stays behind to handle the crowd. With his help, the cluster of people thins enough that Rick and Carl manage to squeeze through the exits in just a few minutes. The sun in his eyes is blinding and he blinks to clear his vision. Somewhere behind him, he hears a chorus of gunshots. They must hit their marks, because deafening silence is what follows.

  
There are two bodies on the ground outside, blood pooling beneath them and gaping wounds in their shoulders, stomachs, necks. Rick tries not to look, tries to shuffle Carl along to the car without him seeing too much. With the exception of his great aunt's funeral two years ago, Rick has never seen a dead body before. Not one that wasn't made up all pretty and in one piece, made to be seen. These bodies should be covered up, and Rick supposes they will be once the police handle the Walkers and call in a team of men in hazmat suits to clean up the rest.

  
"There's your answer about how they got in," the man Rick spoke to earlier says, still shuffling along at his right. His wife has stopped crying and is dabbing at her mascara with a tissue.

  
Carl struggles out of his father's arms and runs forward into the grass. Rick is about to reprimand him for leaving when the crowd is still so dense, but then Carl pitches forward and throws up all over his shoes and Rick thinks that maybe Shane's idea of leaving the city might not be so bad after all.

  
\---

  
He has to see Daryl.

  
It's the not knowing that's killing him, and it's not just about the possibility that Rick might be sick too. He just needs to know if Daryl is okay, if he turned or if he's still holding on or if maybe, by some miracle, they found a cure for him. He can't leave the city without knowing, and he's not even sure why.

  
He's known Daryl for less than a week - has it really only been that long? Christ. - and they've only properly spoken a handful of times. Rick had done most of the talking, but the things Daryl actually did say were the most important. Rick feels like Daryl offered him something special when he told him about his life, about his hobbies and his brother and his fears, and Rick would never forgive himself if he didn't at least try to return the favor.

  
If he's still alive, Rick thinks on his way to work early Monday afternoon, then Rick's going to get him out. Nobody deserves to die in a cage.

  
Rick made Carl swear not to tell Lori about the Walkers at the baseball game, and Carl, still green in the face and showing every bit of his twelve years of age, had nodded and promised he wouldn't. Lori doesn't need another excuse to be mad at him, and he doesn't need to add fuel to Shane's fire by letting him sway Lori, too. Besides, it'll get around to her eventually anyway. Once Shane finds out, he won't be able to keep his mouth shut, classified information or not. He's always told Rick about the worst of his calls, and Rick has always kept him up to date on his most boring paperwork. They tell each other everything. This might be the first time they've ever been divided on what to do, and Rick is seeing more of Shane's side with each passing day.

  
But he can't leave without knowing, for sure, whether a cure is even possible or not. He's willing to do whatever it takes to get Jenner to tell him. If he kept it secret about Merle, what else is he hiding?

  
Rick pulls into work a full hour early and parks next to a red sports car with black stripes down the front. The car with the Florida license plates he usually parks beside is gone, and looking around the parking lot, he sees that most of the cars that are there every day have disappeared as well. Only around a dozen remain, and that's counting Rick's beat up old SUV.

  
Rick swipes his key card and enters the building, immediately making a beeline to the stairs. He tosses his keys and phone in his locker and makes his way to the second floor.

  
The first thing he does when he gets to the lab - ignoring Andrea's stoic greeting and Glenn's wave from across the room - is look through the window at the rooms in the back, where the test subjects are kept. He doesn't see Daryl at first, and his heart starts hammering faster in his chest. He wipes his sweaty palms off on his jeans and leans up on the tips of his toes, craning his neck, and there he is. He's laying on his bed, hair still a mess and clothes unchanged, but his chest is rising and falling with strong breaths Rick can clearly see from across the room and he's alive.

  
"Rick, hey," Glenn says, having reached him at last. "You okay?"

  
"Number twenty," Rick says, rushing through the words. "Were you here this weekend? Did anything happen with him?"

  
Glenn looks confused for a second before answering. "Yeah, I was here. Saturday, anyway. He must have had the flu or something because he was fine when I left. Why?"

  
It occurs to Rick then that Glenn must not know about Daryl's infection; Jenner must not have told everyone. Rick wonders who else knows, and why he, who's only been here for a week, was the first to be notified. Maybe it's because of his connection - is it a connection? Can they even be considered friends? - with Daryl. Or maybe Jenner knows something he doesn't.

  
"Just curious. Thought maybe he was sick, you know. Must not be if he's had no symptoms, then."

  
"Maybe," Glenn says slowly. "Or maybe it's different because he was exposed to the virus differently. There's no way to know for sure, so I guess they have to keep him here."

  
Rick thinks back to his last conversation with Daryl, when Daryl confessed his fear of being forced to stay in the lab forever. Now that he's been given a definite diagnosis and Jenner knows he's infected, there's a very slim chance he'll ever get to leave. Even if he never shows a single symptom, never turns and never hurts another person, he's still a risk. Until they know for certain what this virus is and how to stop it, Daryl is stuck here, and it bothers Rick to think about how much that would hurt him if he knew.

  
"I guess," he says, watching Daryl through the window. He shifts in his sleep and the simple movement is enough to make Rick's heart swell.

  
Rick sees Jenner out of the corner of his eye, heading towards the lab. Speak of the devil. He follows the other man, shooting Glenn a quick goodbye over his shoulder, and just manages to stop him before he can scan his key card.

  
Rick grabs Jenner's shoulder firmly, and Jenner turns to look at him with a carefully blank expression on his face.

  
"Rick," he says, at least managing to sound surprised. "It's nice to see you back. Some of your colleagues thought better of it, it seems."

  
"I've noticed."

  
Jenner pushes Rick's hand gently off of his shoulder. "Do you need something? I'm a little busy at the moment, so unless it's impor-"

  
"It's important," Rick interrupts. "It's about number twenty. I know you didn't tell the others that he's infected. Why?"

  
"That's my business, Rick. I told you that in confidence. Don't make me regret my decision."

  
"You just wanted someone else to carry the load, didn't you," Rick says, feeling braver than he has since before the baseball game on Sunday. "I don't know why you picked me, but this isn't about that. I don't care why, to be honest. I just want to know how it's possible that _Daryl_ is infected but he isn't sick anymore. Did you cure him? Did the antibiotics _work_?"

  
Jenner looks distinctly uncomfortable, shifting on his feet. Quietly, he motions for Rick to follow him to the corner offices, and Rick feels hopeful that the privacy will give Jenner a better chance of opening up and answering Rick's questions.

  
Jenner takes a seat immediately, slumping down in an empty chair and leaning his elbows on the table in front of him. Rick opts to stand, feeling the same upper handed strength he's sure Shane felt when he refused to sit down the night Rick talked to him and Lori about their affair. Jenner seems to sense it too, because he won't look up at Rick, instead keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the blank computer screen.

  
Jenner waits a moment for Rick to speak. When he doesn't, Jenner sighs and says, "You know, I never wanted this to happen. Any of it. I figured it would be a week, maybe a month, and we'd have a cure. But it's not black and white like that, like the other diseases I've worked on treating in the past. There's no vaccine that can stop it. There's nothing, and I'm afraid that no matter what we try there will just be... _nothing_."

  
"But number twenty... _Daryl_ got better. Something you did must have had an effect. He would have turned by now if it hadn't."

  
"He refused the antibiotics. We didn't force anything on him. He was sick and now he's not, and I can't even begin to tell you why."

  
"Try," Rick says, putting a little force in the word. "You know more about this thing than any of us. There has to be a reason."

  
"God," Jenner sighs, running a hand through his short thinning hair. "You really want to know, don't you? Even if it'll change everything? You'll never be the same if I tell you. That's why I haven't told the others, they don't need that kind of a weight on their shoulders."

  
Rick grits his teeth, thinking hard. He wants to know, because he wants to help. But he also doesn't want to share whatever burden Jenner has settled himself with. But Jenner is the one who told him that Daryl was infected; it's only right that he also tell him the reason why he isn't anymore.

  
"Just tell me."

  
Jenner twists his fingers in his hair and pulls, a few strands coming off in his hands. He finally looks up at Rick, and his blank expression has morphed into a solemn one, all thin lips and frown lines.

  
"We're all infected."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after writing this chapter, things started to get out of control. I ended up re-writing four chapters and changing the course of the story completely. So, it's a hot mess from here on out, guys. Buckle up.

"We're all infected."

  
Rick stands stock still, trying to process it. Jenner's words echo in his ears long after both of them have stopped speaking.

  
It just doesn't make any _sense_. If they're all infected, then they're all going to turn into those things, but so far it's only happening sporadically, to people who are bitten. But Merle wasn't bitten, not if Daryl is telling the truth - which he is, Rick thinks. He wouldn't like about something like that.

  
Rick tries to speak, but all that comes out is a raspy noise in the back of his throat. Jenner goes back to staring at his hands, and Rick fixes his attention on the three other empty tables in the back part of the office, all with their computer screen blank and chairs pushed in. Rick wants to sit down, doesn't think his legs can handle much more standing after what he just heard, but he can't bring himself to move. He puts his hands out and grabs on to the edge of the table and holds on like it's a life preserver. Jenner flinches at the sudden movement.

  
"How?" Rick finally manages to croak out.

  
"I don't know," Jenner admits, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers. "I just know that I've tested enough blood to know it. We all carry the Walker gene, but it's dormant until the time of death. So..."

  
"No matter how we die, we all turn," Rick finishes, thinking about Merle, who died from a knife wound and still came back. "Did you know that, when you tested Daryl?"

  
"I had a hunch."

  
"A _hunch_? You have us all out there looking for a cure that doesn't even exist because you had a hunch?"

  
Rick stares down at him, but Jenner continues to avoid his eyes.

  
"I buried my _wife_ this weekend, Rick. It doesn't matter how this thing is spread, we can't stop it. There's no point in telling everyone they're all going to die. I don't need another riot on my hands, and it doesn't matter anyway. I give it another month before it's gone global, a year before it's taken out the bulk of the human race. It doesn't matter what we do, Rick. It's going to happen."

  
"It's your _job_ to stop it!" Rick tries to keep his temper under control, but Jenner is making it nearly impossible to remain calm. All he wants to do is punch some sense into this man, but he knows this is neither the time nor the place. "It _does_ matter, doc. My wife and kid are out there, so _it matters_."

  
Jenner just shrugs, defeat in the slump of his shoulders. Rick realizes that it doesn't matter what he says or does here, this man has already given up. But Rick doesn't believe that all hope it lost, because he _can't_. Not when he has people out there who are counting on him, who are looking to him for a solution.

  
He turns and walks away from Jenner, who remains motionless in his chair. Rick wouldn't be surprised if he found him there still at the end of the day, but he's not going to go out of his way to pick him up. He lost his wife to this thing; Rick can understand completely how that has changed his way of thinking. But Rick isn't like that, and he still has people worth fighting for in this world.

  
Before he heads back to the lab, Rick stops by at his locker first and checks his phone. Four text messages, three from Lori and one from Shane, and two missed calls from Lori. He swallows down a lump in his throat and clicks on the first message.

  
Lori, 12:24pm: _Rick I know you're at work but please answer your phone._

  
Lori, 12:37pm: _Shane told me about the baseball game. You and Carl were there. Answer your phone._

  
Lori, 1:13pm: _We can't stay here. Shane was right. It's not safe._

  
Shane, 1:20pm: _Lori knows. I'm sorry._

  
The missed calls are from 12:15pm and 12:32pm. Both from Lori, and she didn't leave a voicemail either time. Shane hasn't called him, and Carl is still at school. Rick checks the clock on his phone: 2:40pm. He thinks he's lucky Lori hasn't come charging into his work demanding to speak to him.

  
He opens his phone's keypad and types in her number, hitting 'call' without a second thought. If she's really that worried, it's his job as her husband to calm her down, to reassure her that everything is going to be fine. Even though his conversation with Jenner still has him shaken and starting to doubt that it will be.

  
The call drops before it even starts ringing, a busy signal beeping through the speaker. He tries again, but the same thing happens. He tries dialing Shane's number, but it's the same thing - a few seconds of silence, and then nothing but beeps.

  
The phone lines must be down. There's no way both Shane and Lori are on the phone with other people at the same time; if Lori really wanted him to call, she'd keep the line open. Unless they're talking to each other. Rick shakes his head and sets his phone back down on the shelf in the locker; he'll try again later.

  
He goes back to the lab. There are only half a dozen other scientists inside, all hard at work. None of them know, Rick thinks. None of them know how pointless what they're doing is, how useless all of their hard work has been. He wonders if Jenner ever plans on telling them the truth, or if it's something he plans on taking to the grave. Rick won't tell them; he doesn't want to be responsible for crushing their spirits like that. He won't even tell Lori, or Shane.

  
He contemplates going back to work, at least trying to find some kind of cure, even a temporary fix, but instead he goes to see Daryl. He hasn't seen the man all weekend, and to be honest, he's kind of missed him.

  
Daryl is still laying down on the bed when Rick enters the room, but his eyes are open and he's more alert than Rick expected him to be. He jumps up before the door has even closed completely and is on his feet, looking defensive. As soon as he realizes it's just Rick, however, he sits back down on the bed and drops his hands to his lap.

  
"Hey," he says. Rick nods at him in greeting and takes a seat on the bed, keeping as much space between them as possible. Even so, the bed is small, and the few feet separating them feels even smaller.

  
"How are you feeling?" Rick asks. Small talk, he's good at that. Nothing too serious; he's tired of talking about serious things. He just wants to chat about the weather, about motorcycles he knows nothing about, brothers who aren't his, things that make Daryl's face light up in a way he's never seen anywhere else.

  
"Kinda shitty," Daryl says, shrugging. "But better. Bet they still wanna keep me here though."

  
"Yeah. Precaution. Sorry about that. If I could let you out, I would, but I'm not authorized."

  
"Don't matter. 've made peace with it."

  
Rick sincerely doubts that. Nothing has changed since the last time he spoke to Daryl, when the brunet admitted how afraid he was. He's still trapped, still being prodded at like a pinned butterfly, and for what? A cure that doesn't exist? An infection that everyone carries?

  
"Lori - my wife," he chokes on the word, like she somehow isn't his to claim anymore; "She wants us to leave. Me and her and my son, and a friend of mine too, probably. Not sure where they expect us to go. City's practically on lockdown last I checked. Since you've been in here, there's been at least an attack a day, more now. You haven't seen it, but I have. This weekend, there was an attack at the baseball game I was at and it could have been me. It could have been me and my son, and there's nothing I could have done about it."

  
So much for small talk. Once the first words leave Rick's lips, they keep coming until they're rolling out of his mouth without his permission and he can't stop them. He's not sure why he's telling all of this to Daryl, of all people; he barely even knows the man. But there's something about the way he just sits and listens, doesn't make a sound until he's sure Rick is done speaking. He makes Rick feel like he's actually being heard. Lori always talks over him and Shane never pays any attention when he's talking. Daryl is different.

  
Daryl grunts and waits for Rick to stop rambling. He's looking at him, with those mysterious dark blue eyes of his, and Rick almost feels _exposed_. Like he could say anything and everything without meaning to. Like Daryl is reading him with his eyes, stripping him down to the absolute truth of who he is and how he feels. It's unnerving, but at the same time, Rick has no desire to leave.

  
"Sorry, man," Daryl says. "For what it's worth, wish you'd stay. Gets kinda lonely in here."

  
"Yeah. Me too." Rick isn't sure if he means that he wishes he could stay, or that he's lonely too. Maybe a little bit of both.

  
They lapse into a comfortable silence, Rick acutely aware of every inch of space between them. But it's not awkward; he's glad that for once Daryl isn't sitting on the floor. He's glad that Daryl feels comfortable enough around him to sit like this, so close Rick could reach out and touch him at any moment.

  
He wants to. Inexplicably, for no reason other than the fact that he can. Daryl would probably let him, but he doesn't. He doesn't dare ruin this thing they have going for them, this companionable silence. Daryl is the first to speak, and Rick almost wishes he's stayed quiet.

  
"You should leave," he says, his voice scratchy and soft. Like brushing a clean razor over stubble. "You and your wife and kid. 's not safe here. Overhear the others talkin' about it sometimes. The ones that left. You should too."

  
"Not without you," Rick finds himself saying, and he's not even sure where it comes from. He's known Daryl for less than a week - the same amount of time he's known Glenn, and Jenner, and neither of them are enough to make him want to risk what he's risking for Daryl. His own safety - Lori's, Carl's. He shouldn't have even come to work today, not after what happened at the baseball game. He tells himself that he came for the cure, but he should have left after Jenner told him it was impossible. He just had to see Daryl, to make sure he was okay. That's all.

  
He makes up his mind in that moment. It's an irrational, split second decision that may cost him dearly, but his mind is set and he can't take it back now. Not with so much at stake.

  
"I'm leaving," he says, ignoring the way Daryl's face falls for just a second before he crafts his expression back into blankness. "And I'm taking you with me."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update coming in the morning to make up for this short, crappy chapter. Please be patient :)

The rest of the staff abandon their posts by the following Wednesday. Rick manages to convince Lori to let him stay the week, as long as nothing outrageous happens before then to push their leaving up a few days. She gives him until Friday - not nearly enough time. Just two more days, and he still hasn't convinced Jenner to let Daryl go.

  
It's not for lack of trying. Jenner holds the key to all the main doors and threatens to close them if Rick tries anything. Says he needs his last test subject, even if he isn't sick. "He will be eventually," Jenner tells him, and there's something ominous in the way he says it.

  
Glenn and Andrea stay too, along with two others whose names Rick doesn't know. The news reports are getting worse, and the military has crept in closer to the city, setting up camp in the middle of neighborhoods, by hospitals, there's even one group of men in uniform a block away from the lab. Rick tries to tell Lori that it doesn't matter if they want to leave, they wouldn't be allowed to with the quarantine on the city anyway, but she doesn't listen. She even goes so far as to bring up divorce again, just to get him to follow what she's saying, and he tunes her out after that.

  
Rick doesn't work late anymore. He spends his afternoons at the lab visiting Daryl, and leaves after a couple of hours have passed. He tries to talk to Jenner, but the man has made up his mind and won't be swayed. He chats with Glenn and makes small talk with Andrea, but they all know they're just biding their time. The freeways are clogged with people trying to get out of the city; it seems to be the only option that's left.

  
Rick doesn't know where he would go if he could leave, if he could take Daryl and his family and just go wherever he wanted to. Someplace safe, that much he knows, but he's not even sure such a place exists anymore. The virus is everywhere, it's inside of everyone. There's no escaping that.

  
"I have 'til tomorrow," he tells Daryl on Thursday afternoon, sitting beside the brunet on the bed with the air charged in the space between them. "Lori says she'll drag me out of town if I don't come with her. She's tougher than me, that woman. I'd have just stayed here until the end but she's got other plans."

  
Daryl nods, a small jerk of his head, his hair falling over his face. Rick lifts his hand to brush it away before he realizes what he's doing and drops it back into his lap.

  
"I don't wanna leave without you, though," he continues. "That's the problem."

  
"'s okay, you know. If you go with her. 'm safe here, I'm okay. I'll be fine."

  
Rick doubts that, because he can see the fear in Daryl's eyes whenever he leaves, thinking it's the last time Rick will visit him, that he'll be stuck in his tiny room for the rest of his life. And tomorrow really will be the last time, unless Rick can somehow convince Jenner to let Daryl go with them. If he can't, he'll never see Daryl again - he knows that. Just thinking about it makes his chest ache in a way he can't explain, and he doesn't try to. He thinks Daryl probably already knows, anyway.

  
The lights flicker for a moment - they've been doing that for days, going in and out at random intervals, sometimes for as long as a few minutes. Just like his phone, which has been working sporadically since he tried to call Lori and couldn't get through. He keeps it in his pocket now, tucked away beneath his biohazard suit when he's in the lab, just in case.

  
"You know, there's really no point in keeping this on anymore," he says suddenly, removing the helmet of his suit and throwing it to the ground. Daryl looks at him like he's just grown a second head.   
"You'll get sick! Jenner says I'm infected, put it back on or you'll-"

 

"We're all infected, Daryl," Rick says, shaking his head slowly. It feels nice to be able to breathe a little better, a little easier. "That's what he told me. That's why Merle turned without being bitten, it happens to everyone when they die now. I don't know how, or why, but it doesn't matter anymore. I should have taken this damn thing off a long time ago."

 

He doesn't remove the rest of his suit, but the move is just as bold. Daryl looks shaken, torn between wanting to believe Rick and thinking he's completely off his rocker. He keeps glancing between Rick and the discarded helmet, and Rick realizes it's the first time he's properly seen him without it.

  
"Your hair's curly," Daryl says after a moment. "Didn't notice that before."

  
Rick smiles. "And yours is a mess. When's the last time they let you out of here?"

  
Daryl shrugs. "Couple days. Shower's in another room. Don't let me out of their sights, though. Smart. Don't like it."

  
Daryl makes a face and Rick laughs, a genuine, full-bellied laugh he hasn't heard out of his own mouth in what feels like forever.

  
"You're gonna need a shower when I get you out of here, first thing." He eyes Daryl's sweatpants and says, "And some new clothes. No offense."

  
"They're comfy. Not complainin'."

  
There's a knock on the door and Rick peers out the window. Jenner.

  
"I'll be right back," he tells Daryl, grabbing his suit helmet and leaving the room. "I promise," he finishes, closing the door behind him quickly so he doesn't have to see the look on Daryl's face.

  
At first Rick thinks Jenner is there to scold him about taking apart his suit in the lab, for safety reasons more than the spread of the virus that's already in both of their systems.

  
But instead he pulls Rick aside near the entrance to the lab and says, "Your wife and son are outside."

  
"Outside?" Rick repeats, dumbfounded. "Did they say why?"

  
"They've come to get you, apparently. That's all she said. Why don't you ask her yourself?"

  
"Let Daryl out and I will," Rick says, trying not to let his desperation show on his face. This really is his last chance to get Daryl out; if Lori is here for him, a day early, that means something happened and she'll want to leave right away. He's running out of time.

  
Jenner shakes his head and Rick's heart plummets. "You know I can't do that. You're free to go, but number twenty-"

  
" _Daryl_."

  
"-Daryl stays. I need an infected person's blood to continue my research."

  
"Then use your own!" Rick tries to keep his voice down but his anger is building. "You said you'd given up on trying to find a cure. It shouldn't matter anymore if there isn't one."

  
"I made a promise to my wife," Jenner says. "To keep trying. So I will."

  
"Then take his blood and let us go. Please."

  
Jenner sighs and shakes his head. "You and your family are welcome to stay here. You can visit Daryl whenever you want to. You'll be safe here, I promise."

  
A thought occurs to Rick, and he blurts out before he can stop himself, "You're lonely. You think you're gonna die here and you don't want to die alone. That's why you're keeping him locked up."

  
Jenner looks caught, like a mouse in a trap, and Rick knows he's right. Jenner can't make the scientists stay, they're free to go to their families and most of them already have, but he owns Daryl. He can keep him locked up forever if he wants to.

  
"I'll talk to Lori," Rick says. "About staying for a few days. Maybe she'll say yes. But if she doesn't, then I'm taking Daryl. Nothing you do is going to stop me."

  
Jenner doesn't say anything. Rick pushes past him and walks out of the lab with the bottom half of his biohazard suit still on. Lori is waiting for him outside of the building and he swipes his key card to let her in. Carl is at her hip, looking both awed by the lab itself and frightened by his mother's haste to leave.

  
"We've got to _go_ , Rick," Lori says, trying to usher him out the door. "The house next door was just attacked, Shane barely got there in time. We locked the doors and stayed inside but the _thing_ that was out there could have just as easily gotten to us first. We've got to _go_."

  
"Go where, Lori? The city's guarded, there are cops and military everywhere, nowhere's safe anymore! We can stay here for a couple days, in the lab, there's food and clean water and generators just in case the power goes out again. Just until this all blows over."

  
What Rick doesn't say is that he wants to stay for Daryl, because the look on Jenner's face when he pleaded with him makes him think that maybe the man will concede if he's pushed enough. Another day, maybe two, and he'll have Daryl out and then they can go. He just needs more _time_ , but he can see immediately in Lori's expression that she isn't willing to give it to him.

  
"It's not going to _blow over_ , Rick, this is an epidemic! We can go to a smaller city, fewer people, less chance of infection. _That's_ where we'll be safest, Rick. Think about your _son_ if you don't agree with me."

  
"Two days, Lori. That's all I'm asking for."

  
"Why?" she asks, obviously suspicious. "What's so important here that you need to stay? Why can't you just come with us?"

  
"I've..." He thinks hard, trying to come up with an answer she'll accept. He can't tell her about Daryl, not yet. She won't understand, she'll want to leave him here, and Rick just can't do that. "I've got work to do. We're close to a cure, Lori. I promise you. Just give me two more days, and if nothing's worked by then, we can leave. I swear. I'll go anywhere you want."

  
Lori looks like she wants to argue, lips pursed and a firm grip on Carl beside her, but then she nods. It's just a small incline of her head, but it's enough to make Rick smile. He gives her a loose hug and kisses her on the forehead, whispering "Thank you" into her hairline.

  
Two days. That's all the time he has left to get Daryl out. He has to make it count. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some progress. Enjoy the fun while it lasts.

Rick feels guilty about lying to Lori, but it's the only thing he could have done. He has to get Daryl out, and the only way he can stay with him is if Lori thinks he's busy working on a cure. It's sneaky, and he knows it's wrong, but he feels like Daryl's life is at stake, somehow. Like if he doesn't get him out, Daryl is going to spend the rest of his life locked up like a caged animal, and that's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being.

  
It's late, so Lori takes Carl to the top floor and they both settle into rooms for the night. Lori packed more than enough clothes for all of them, probably enough to last a couple of weeks between washes; Rick changes into a fresh pair of sweats for bed and sneaks down into the lab under the pretense of working late on the cure. He still hasn't told Lori about Daryl, and he's not sure what he's going to say when he does.

  
Shane calls twice between Rick changing clothes and him walking down the stairs to the lab. He answers it the second time, on the third ring, and Shane sounds upset at first about the change in plans.

  
"I'm just saying," he tells Rick, the purring of his patrol car running in the background. "We're dealing with half a dozen calls a day now, Rick. It's not getting any better. I'm scared out of my mind, brother, for you and Lori and Carl especially."

  
"I am too," Rick admits, and it's the truth. He just doesn't know where to factor Daryl in the mix, so he doesn't bring up the brunet. "But I'm close to _something_. Don't know if it's a cure yet or just another piece of the puzzle but it'll take me a couple days, tops, to figure that out. Then I'm down to go wherever you want." _As long as Daryl comes too._

  
Rick can hear the distinct crack of a gunshot through the phone, but it sounds distant. "Are you at work?"

  
"On a run, actually. Two dead ones a block over from your old neighborhood. Got two other squad cars here though, they can handle it."

  
A shout echoes through the line and Rick hears static as Shane shifts the phone near his ear.

  
"Listen, brother, I've gotta go," he says quickly, static crackling on his end. "Turns out there's one more inside and they need me. Whole family of 'em, looks like." Rick pictures Shane making a face. "I'll call you later and we can talk about this. Okay?"

  
Shane doesn't wait until Rick replies, just hangs up quickly and a steady stream of static follows. Rick shoves his phone in his pocket and makes his way back to the lab. He checks his watch: 10:32pm. He'd be willing to bet money that Daryl is still awake.

  
And he is. Rick can see him even before he enters the lab, through the window. He's pacing again, chewing on a thumbnail with his wild hair in his face. A swell of excitement bubbles up in Rick's chest; he gets to see Daryl again, talk to him for as long as he wants, and in the time he's known him, he's come to look forward to their nightly visits.

  
Daryl is always chattier at night, when his guard is down and it's just him and Rick without the other scientists pressing their noses against the glass. They sit on the bed together and talk about anything and everything - Daryl likes to talk about Merle, but always steers clear of conversations about the rest of his family, except to mention in passing that both of his parents are dead. Rick talks about Carl, Shane, college, his old job, everything he can think of. He wants Daryl to know it all, just like he wants to know everything there is to know about Daryl. But he doesn't dare ask him anything, he always waits for him to offer up what he's willing. He doesn't want to push him too hard and force him back into his shell.

  
"Hey," Rick greets, stepping into the room without even the bottom half of his suit on. There's no point anymore; if he was going to get sick, he would have already.

  
Daryl nods at him, sitting down on the end of the bed and waiting for Rick to join him. A thought occurs to Rick, and he remains standing. Daryl gives him an odd look but doesn't say anything.

  
"C'mon," Rick says suddenly, motioning towards the door. "Let's get you out of here."

  
Daryl looks absolutely dumbfounded, like Rick is speaking Spanish all of a sudden. He shakes his head slowly but Rick persists.

  
"Lori and Carl and I are staying for a few days. Jenner said you can't leave the building, but he didn't say anything about leaving the _lab_."

  
Daryl stares at him for a minute, his eyes narrowed. "I can leave? Just like that?"

  
"Just like that."

  
"What's the catch?"

  
Rick runs his hand through his hair, catching his fingers on a few stray curls. "Jenner doesn't know." When Daryl opens his mouth, Rick speaks over him, "He never said I couldn't get you out of your room, not those words exactly. And if he gets mad, it's on me. Not you. So what's the harm? It's just a shower, and maybe a better night's sleep in a decent bed for once."

  
Rick swipes his key card in the slot by the door and it opens outwards. He steps out and stands aside, waiting for Daryl to follow him. Daryl just looks down at the floor like he can't quite believe what's happening. Rick realizes that he really, truly thought he'd never leave this place. All the more incentive for Rick to get him out as quickly as possible.

  
Daryl takes a step forward, then another, until his feet are both just inside of the door's threshold. He looks up at Rick, who nods and puts his hand on the brunet's shoulder for support. Daryl flinches for just a second but it's enough to pull Rick's hand back to his side.

  
Daryl passes through the door quickly, light on his feet, and joins Rick on the other side, a broad grin on his face. Rick has never seen Daryl this happy, but that makes sense; he's only known Daryl since he was locked up. He picture Daryl before, with his mysterious brother Merle, and thinks that he must have been happy then too. Rick can't imagine a world where Daryl Dixon isn't happy, it just doesn't feel right.

  
Daryl pats one hand on Rick's bicep, a gentle touch that Rick would have missed if he hadn't been looking. The motion settles a warm feeling in Rick's stomach, because he knows how much Daryl hates to be touched, and he figures the same applies to touching someone else. Physical contact. Rick wonders if it's his time in the lab that's brought that out in him, or if something happened in his life before that made him so hesitant around people.

  
"C'mon," he says, and Daryl drops his hand. "Let's go get you a shower. Your hair looks like a bird's nest."

  
Daryl leads the way to the showers, which turns out to be more of a high school gym situation than a luxury five star bathroom - four showerheads lined up against the wall, little containers of soap near the entrance, and... no doors. There's a place where a door should be, a large rectangular hole in the wall with hinges and everything, but clearly privacy isn't something that's respected here. Upstairs, in the guest bathrooms, there are huge showers with curtains and doors that lock, for maximum privacy and comfort. But the test subjects aren't treated the same way, and it makes Rick angry.

  
Daryl goes to remove his shirt, clearly used to the lack of privacy, but Rick stops him with a hand over his. Daryl looks up at him, eyes wide. Rick can see the barest hint of something underneath his shirt that could be a tattoo or a scar, but he drops his hands down and it's covered up before Rick can get a good look.

  
"You're not showering in here," Rick says, like it's just a fact. Daryl gives him a questioning look.

  
"Here's as good as any. Just a shower," he says. The way he says it, so resigned, makes Rick's blood boil. How could such a prestigious place treat _people_ so badly? Just because they're sick. Rick wonders if Jenner treated his wife this way when she got sick, if he made her shower in here and only took her out of the room every few days. If he made her suffer like Daryl. If he left her all alone after he found out she was going to turn, like she was already a monster even before she became one.

  
"No," Rick says, taking Daryl's hand in his. It's warm and soft, bumpy with callouses, and Daryl doesn't try to pull away. "C'mon. I have my key card. You can use the showers upstairs."

  
Daryl looks down at their joined hands, an odd expression on his face. Rick smiles when he places it as curiosity and not disgust, not discomfort, and he pulls him along and leads him out of the test subjects' quarters, through the lab, and out the door.

  
\---

  
Daryl comes out of the shower in clean clothes - still in sweats, but better than the dingy outfit he was wearing before - with his hair washed and smelling like soap. His hair is combed, even, brushed out of his face so Rick can finally see him better. Rick has the inexplicable urge to reach out and touch him, maybe take his hand again because that felt so good last time, but he doesn't. Daryl may have put up with it before, but that doesn't mean he likes it; for all he knows, Rick may have made him uncomfortable and Daryl just chose not to comment.

  
It's when they get to the bedrooms that a problem arises.

  
Rick leads Daryl to a room - Lori and Carl must be asleep already because there are two side-by-side rooms with doors closed on the top floor - and Daryl hesitates before entering. He looks around, sits on the bed, and Rick is about to leave before Daryl calls him back.

  
"Could you just... stay? I can sleep on the floor, 's not a problem. Just... don't wanna be alone right now. Don't feel right."

  
Rick understands immediately how he must be feeling. He's in the same place that kept him prisoner for over two weeks, and now he's being expected to sleep unguarded in an unfamiliar section of the building with the same people who brought him here in the first place. Or, person - Rick isn't sure which of the other scientists brought him in, but he knows Jenner had something to do with it.

  
Rick would be leery too, if it was him. So he nods and says, "I'll sleep on the floor. You're used to that rickety old bed you've been sleeping in, you deserve a good night's sleep for once."

  
Daryl opens his mouth to protest but Rick cuts him off with a look.

  
Rick goes into another room - promising Daryl he'll be back - and grabs blankets and pillows from the bed and brings them back into the first room, laying them out on the floor. He's not sure how close Daryl wants him to be, so he chooses the middle of the room, between the dresser and the bed, just in case Daryl needs a little space. It seems to be the right choice, because Daryl doesn't say anything, just climbs into bed and stretches out. Rick hears a contented sigh from the other side of the room and smiles. All the discomfort of sleeping on the floor is worth it if he gets to hear Daryl comfortable for once.


	15. Chapter 15

Rick wakes up with a sore back and a headache, and Lori standing over him looking confused and more than a little angry.

  
"What's going on?" she asks, staring down at him. He shifts into a sitting position, blankets splayed out around him. Daryl is still sleeping - surprisingly - and Lori is actually keeping her voice down to avoid waking him - even more surprising. "Who's that?"

  
She points her thumb at Daryl, who's curled up on his side looking years younger in his sleep.

  
"Daryl Dixon," Rick says, like that's enough explanation. Lori frowns at him, glancing between the two of them.

  
"And _what_ exactly is he doing in your room?"

  
"Technically it's _his_ room," Rick says, keeping his voice low. "And it's not like that. He gets night terrors. I was just trying to help." Another lie; he hasn't heard a sound out of Daryl all night.

  
"By sleeping with him."

  
" _Near_ him, yes."

  
Lori doesn't look convinced, but Rick has no idea why she's upset. It's just like a sleepover, he slept on the floor all night, nothing else happened. Lori should know him better than that, she should trust him, but sometimes he thinks she trusts _Shane_ more than him and that hurts. Because no matter what happened between them, she's still his _wife_.

  
"Who _is_ he? One of your scientist friends?"

  
"Yeah," Rick says, figuring one more lie can't hurt. He's already lied so many times about Daryl to Lori.

  
"Is this something that happens regularly?"

  
"No," he says, the truth for once. "First time. I promise."

  
She looks like she believes him, which is a relief. He's not sure how he would go about explaining to her that Daryl is an infected test subject who he just brought out of his containment unit to sleep on the same floor as his wife and son. He doesn't think that would go over so well with her.

  
"If you're lying to me, Rick Grimes..." she says under her breath.

  
Rick sighs. "Can we have a discussion that doesn't end in the _d_ word for once?"

  
"What?"

  
" _Divorce_ , Lori. I just want to talk like adults, can we do that please? Without turning it into a domestic argument?"

  
Lori runs a hand through her hair, parting it over her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she says after a pause, and she sounds sincere, at least. "I'm just..."

  
"Hormonal?" he jokes, glancing down at her slightly distended stomach. She pushes his arm gently.

  
"Concerned," she finishes, a small smile on her face. Rick can almost, almost see the woman he married underneath all the baggage she's been carrying around. Underneath layers of lies and spite, maybe she's still there. Maybe he can bring her out again. He knows he hasn't exactly been trying.

  
"I am too," he says. "And I'll work on it, today. I'm trying my best here, Lori. I'll have an answer for you by tomorrow, and then we can go wherever you want after that."

  
"Promise?"

  
He nods. He doesn't tell her that Daryl is coming with them, no matter what he has to do to convince Jenner to let him go. He can't just leave and spend the rest of his life not knowing if Daryl lives or dies. It was hard enough waiting an entire weekend thinking he was dying in his cramped little room all alone; even if he has a home to go to that's bigger, more comfortable, the situation is the same, and Rick's feelings about it are the same. He's not leaving Daryl alone.

  
Lori looks doubtful for a moment, but then she smiles softly, showing just he barest hint of teeth.

  
"I trust you," she says. Guilt riddles Rick but he doesn't let it show.

  
Rick stands, blankets falling around his feet, and takes Lori's hands in his. They aren't as warm and worn as Daryl's, but there's still a hint of electricity when he touches her. He smiles, and she kisses him, a quick, chaste kiss on the lips that he leans into without thinking. It doesn't feel like it did when they first started dating, even when they got married and had Carl and were one big happy family. He thinks she can feel it too because she pulls away first, tugging her hands free of his.

  
"I'll go get Carl up," she says. "Dr. Jenner has breakfast ready. You should come down when you can."

  
Rick nods and stretches, watching her walk out the door and down the hall.

  
"She gone?" comes Daryl's scratchy, sleepy voice from his right. He looks over to see the brunet, wide awake, eyes open and half a grin on his face. Rick dips his head.

  
"You heard? All of that?"

  
"Yeah. Nothin' too bad. Me 'n Merle used to have fights like that all the time, but most'a the time they ended in fists. Better your way."

  
"Sorry, I didn't realize you were awake."

  
"'s okay." Daryl's grin broadens just a bit and he sits up. "So I'm a scientist now, huh?"

  
Rick rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly. "What was I supposed to say? You don't know Lori like I do; she wouldn't accept the truth as easily as I did. It's just for now; I'll tell her whatever you want once I've convinced her to let you come with us."

  
Daryl cocks his head. "You was serious about that?"

  
"'course. If you want to come. I'm not gonna force you, but you're always welcome."

  
Daryl pauses. "After Merle..." he begins in his rough, low voice. "Don't have no one waitin' for me back home. Don't really wanna go back to that. So, thanks."

  
Rick smiles, extending a hand. Daryl takes it without hesitation this time and lets Rick help him to his feet. Daryl's hands are larger than Rick's, just a bit, darker and rougher but somehow also warmer and more pliant. Rick figures that's a good explanation of the kind of person Daryl is, too.

  
"Should go back," Daryl says after he lets go of Rick's hand, Rick acutely aware of the cold in the space where his fingers had been. "To the lab. Not supposed to be out."

  
"If Lori knows, Jenner knows," Rick says, not wanting to send Daryl back into that pathetic excuse for a room if he doesn't have to. "And he hasn't said anything yet, so I doubt it's a big deal. If it is, we'll deal with it then. Okay?"

  
Daryl hesitates, then nods. Rick doubts he would argue no matter what Rick says; Daryl seems glad enough just to have a friend, someone who isn't out to get him and who doesn't want him only for his blood and his illness. Rick has to be careful not to take advantage of that, because Daryl is a nice guy and Rick sometimes doesn't know if he's letting Rick touch him out of want or obligation.

  
After a quick shower - Rick - and a change of clothes - also Rick, although he does manage to find a pair of his own jeans that somehow fit Daryl's slightly wider hips and borrows them to him; he doesn't comment on how good he looks, but all Rick has ever seen Daryl wear is sweat pants and Christ, is the change astounding.

  
They head down to the main floor for breakfast. There's a small, often abandoned lab on one end of the floor, and the other is filled with break rooms, lockers, and a small dining area that Rick has never seen with more than one or two people in it. He imagines that after long days with coinciding shifts, it was probably used a lot before the outbreak. He pictures a group of happy people, faces he's seen every day on the job but never gotten to know by name, all clustered around the large tables with plates heaping with food and smiles on their faces. He hopes it can happen again, after this is all over; maybe he'll come back someday and be a part of it.

  
Jenner, Lori, and Carl are already sitting, plates in front of them filled with eggs, bacon, toast, with sides of juice and coffee. Jenner and Lori are chatting animatedly about something, and Rick prays it isn't Daryl - the last thing he needs is for Jenner to tell Lori who Daryl really is and get Rick in a whole mess of trouble, and Daryl too, probably.

  
Jenner looks up when they enter the room and Daryl shrinks back a bit into Rick's side. Rick puts a supportive hand on his arm and leads him to a chair on the side opposite Jenner. Rick sits next to Carl, with Lori on one end and Daryl on the other; Jenner doesn't look at all put out to be sitting alone on his side of the table, and he doesn't give Daryl a second glance. Rick can hear the rush of breath as Daryl exhales the moment Jenner looks away from him.

  
"Rick," Jenner says as soon as Rick and Daryl have both sat down, passing them plates of eggs and bacon and a pot of coffee for the mugs already at the table. "Your wife was just telling me about your plans to leave tomorrow. Any idea where you're going?"

  
Rick takes a sip of coffee and nearly spits it out, glancing at Lori out of the corner of his eye. Daryl is silent beside him, pushing his food around his plate without eating, and it occurs to Rick that he's never seen Daryl eat before. What did they even feed him, when he was locked up? Probably not a proper breakfast, he may be taller than Rick but he's thin as a rail.

  
"Not sure yet," Rick answers honestly, because really, they haven't talked that much about it. Lori was so eager to leave yesterday, but they hadn't even discussed a destination yet. "Outside of the city. That's all I know."

  
"Shane thinks maybe somewhere by the water, a smaller city, less chance of infection."

  
Jenner gives Rick a pointed look, and Rick knows what it means. _You haven't told your wife yet, that everyone's infected._ And of course he hasn't. She doesn't need that kind of weight on her shoulders, none of them do. Sometimes Rick wishes Jenner hadn't told him, but then he'd still believe Daryl was sick and he'd never even think about bringing him with them.

  
"Smart," Jenner says. "That would be my recommendation, too. I'd say you should leave as soon as possible, within the next couple of days. This thing is spreading fast, you know."

  
Rick looks at Lori, who's picking at her eggs and looking at Jenner, and hopes she doesn't say anything about the 'cure' he's supposed to be working on. The same one Jenner told him was impossible. If he tells Lori the same thing, then it's all over - they'll have to leave, today, and Daryl will have no other choice but to stay behind. And Rick just _can't_ let that happen.

  
"Where are Glenn and Andrea?" Rick asks before Lori can say anything, hoping to divert the conversation. "And the others?"

  
"They left this morning, before you got up. Seems they had the same idea you did."

  
"Does that mean you're going to be left here alone?" Lori asks, stilling her fork. Rick notices that Daryl still hasn't eaten anything but chooses not to comment in front of everyone. "After we leave?"

  
Jenner shrugs, looking between Rick and Daryl while he speaks. "Perhaps. Or maybe I'll head home like the rest of them. I'd like to see my wife again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man, I just realized I made Daryl taller than Rick in this fic and shorter than him in my other one. Lol. Expect zero consistency from me at all times, just to be safe. I know they're technically the same height, but I like height differences :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the halfway point, folks. And nothing significant has happened yet. Yay. Also, I don't know science. I'm a Maths major. So I'm pretty much just making this stuff up as I go along. Pretend it makes sense.

Rick spends the majority of the day in the lab, under the pretense of working on a cure. Daryl stays with him, like a dog on his heels, but doesn't go back to his room - instead, he dons a biohazard suit of his own and keeps by Rick's side, watching him intently even though all Rick is doing is looking at blood samples through a microscope most of the time.

  
"What're you doin' now?" Daryl asks, as Rick takes a dropper full of something and adds it to the blood.

  
"Testing it's reaction to different vaccines. Higher concentrations. Already been done, but if Lori walks by, she's gonna wanna see me doing _something_."

  
"That my blood?"

  
Rick nods. "Yeah. All I had on hand, sorry."

  
Daryl shrugs. "No big deal. I'd give you some more, if you needed it. Not worried if it's you."

  
Rick smiles, testing another combination that - not surprisingly - doesn't work. He's pretty sure they've all tried the same things over and over again with no result. It's like this particular infection is resistant to every form of antibiotic, everything they try - it just takes over the good cells and turns them, spreading until the host is filled with so much of the disease it would be nearly impossible to fight it all. And even if they could, the strength of the 'cure' would probably be too much for the host's body to bear.

  
"You really think it's out there? A cure?"

  
Rick looks up, making sure that Lori isn't listening in - she isn't; she's in another room reading a book she packed in her suitcase, some romance novel Rick has absolutely no interest in.

  
"No," he says. "I don't think so. I think if we bide our time, maybe it'll fizzle out on it's own, but nothing we do here is going to change the natural course of the thing. It's spread too far by now."

  
"Can I see?"

  
Rick steps aside, giving Daryl access to the microscope. He peers into it, focusing intently for a minute, before looking back up at Rick.

  
"Those little blob things. That's the infection?"

  
"Yeah," Rick says. "You see how they're spreading? Multiplying? And that's just in a few minutes, in a small amount. Imagine the same thing in a human body."

  
"My body, you mean." Daryl looks down, frowning.

  
" _Everyone's_ bodies," Rick corrects. "I bet if I tested my own blood it'd look exactly the same. You know, for a while there I thought I was gonna get sick, too. When you were."

  
"Why?"

  
Rick sighs, watching Daryl glance up at him through the mess of hair inside of his helmet. "You scratched me," he admits. "The first time I tried to take your blood, when you... lashed out? I don't blame you or anything, I was just worried. Spent the whole weekend after you got sick thinking I was gonna turn, but I didn't even catch your flu or anything."

  
"Jesus, Rick." Daryl looks down again, shame turning the tips of his ears red. "'m sorry. Shouldn't have done it. Didn't know I hurt you, should'a said something."

  
Rick waves his hand nonchalantly. "It's over now. No big deal. Besides, it really put into perspective the way you were probably feeling at the time. Made me realize how wrong it was of them to keep you locked up for something you couldn't control."

  
"If I'd gotten sick, though..."

  
"But you didn't." Rick offers Daryl a smile, which he weakly returns.

  
Rick is struck again by the odd urge to reach out and touch the other man, even though they're both wearing suits and there'd be no skin contact anyway. He wants to show Daryl how much he cares, how much he's learned in the weeks they've known each other. He wants to make Daryl understand that he isn't angry, that he isn't going to lock him back up in that room like an animal; that Rick wants nothing more than friendship - maybe with some hand-holding thrown in if Daryl will let him.

  
He wants Daryl to feel special, because he doubts he really ever has. He wants him to stop flinching away from touches, to stop being afraid of everyone who get close to him. He just isn't sure why he cares so much, but he does.

  
It's when he finally makes up his mind and reaches out to touch Daryl - just a pat on his arm, or maybe his hand - that it happens. He accidentally knocks over a vial next to the microscope, and it falls to the floor, shattering and spilling its contents everywhere. He steps aside to avoid getting any on his shoes, and Daryl, behind him, does the same.

  
An alarm goes off, a tinny voice on the loudspeaker saying something about contamination and clear the lab. Rick barely processes it before Daryl is in front of him, pulling him around the table and out into the next room, the decontamination chamber, where they're sprayed down and the alarm is muted slightly.

  
Rick feels like he's on autopilot, going through the motions of stripping out of his biohazard suit and leaving the lab with Daryl at his side, pulling him along; his feet move without his brain telling them to, his head so foggy the alarm sounds like it's coming from inside of a tin can.

 

The voice on the loudspeaker says something about _full decontamination_ , and Rick finally snaps out of his catatonia in time to see _fire_ , bursting out all over the lab, between beakers and microscopes, from the floor to the ceiling. Everything, months of research and data up in flames in just a few seconds. Rick watches silently as the entire lab burns, and all he can think about is Daryl. Daryl, who could just as easily have been locked up in his tiny room, who could have gotten hurt somehow. Daryl, who got him out before he even realized what was happening. Daryl, who's waving his hand in front of Rick's face saying something Rick can't hear over the ringing in his ears.

  
The alarm finally dies down, and so does the fire. The lab is a mess of burnt tools and ashes, nothing inside is viable anymore. Rick shakes his head, looking over at Daryl, who's got a concerned expression on his face and is still waving his hands like he thinks Rick can't see him.

  
"'m fine," Rick says, surprised to hear his own voice coming out so clear. "Just surprised me, that's all."

  
"Scared me there, man." Daryl drops his hands and shoves them in his pockets. "This sorta thing happen a lot?"

  
"No," Rick says, shaking his head again; a wave of nausea sweeps over him. "First time I've seen it."

  
"What're you gonna tell your wife?"

  
_Shit_ , Rick thinks. " _Shit_."

  
\---

  
"Tell me again, but slower this time."

  
"You heard me the first time, Lori."

  
"Yes, but I'm having a hard time believing it." She throws her hands on her hips, and Rick is thankful that Daryl volunteered to take Carl to the cafeteria for lunch. He'd really rather neither of them be here to hear this. "You're telling me that all of your work, your _cure_ , is gone. Just like that. But you still want to _stay_?"

  
"Yes," Rick says simply, shrugging. "Few days, tops."

  
" _Why_ , exactly?"

  
Rick sighs. "Can't you just trust me on this for once, Lori?"

  
"No. Not this time, Rick."

  
"Lori..." Rick puts on his best puppy-dog eyes, but Lori doesn't budge. "C'mon. It's important."

  
"Too important to tell your _wife_?" Lori says, shifting on her feet and staring at him with the most intense glare he's ever seen. If he wasn't married to her, he'd know to steer clear, because she's _intimidating_. "Is this about Daryl?"

  
Panic thrums in Rick's chest at the mention of the brunet's name. "What does Daryl have to do with anything?"

  
Lori removes her hands from her hips and crosses them in front of her chest instead. Somehow, the stance is even more intense.

  
"Dr. Jenner told me about Daryl," she says. "He told me who he is and why he's been following you like a lost puppy all day. It makes sense, really. But I still can't believe you _lied_ to me about it."

  
Rick, unsure of what to do with his hands, tries crossing his arms too but ends up with his hands in his pockets instead.

  
"Lori, I'm sorry. I honestly didn't mean to lie to you about him. But would you have stayed if I'd told you the truth?"

  
Rick realizes his mistake a moment too late. "So that's why we're here? For him?" Lori says, her voice just edging on upset. "Was the whole thing about a 'cure' just another lie? Or were you actually working this morning?"

  
"I was working," he says quickly. "But... more going through the motions than anything else. If there's a cure, I don't have it. I'm sorry."

  
She looks like she wants to be angry with him, but something is holding her back. She looks past him into the cafeteria across the floor, where Daryl and Carl are sitting across from each other deep in conversation over soda and sandwiches. Rick wants to look back too, to see what they're doing and how they're getting along - they're both very important to him, and if it goes well maybe Carl can help him convince Lori to take Daryl along if things go south here - but he doesn't. He keeps his eyes fixed on Lori and tries to give her his undivided attention, something she always says he never does.

  
He realizes as much as she's changed since he married her, he's also become a different person, a different kind of husband. He could be better, he could do better by her. Maybe he pushed her into the affair, maybe it was all because he didn't love her enough. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to make things work now, because he can't take back the long hours and the absences. He just hopes it's not too late.

  
She sighs, the spite draining out of her face slowly. "I'm more upset that you lied to me than that Daryl is the reason you wanted to stay. But I understand why you did."

  
"Lori, this is not on you. None of it is. This is my fault and if I can-"

  
"It's okay, Rick," she says, cutting him off with a soft voice. "I know I haven't always been there for you like a wife's supposed to be. But I'm here now. And if he's as special to you as Dr. Jenner seems to think he is, then it's okay. We can stay as long as it takes."

  
"You- Really?"

  
She leans over, taking a single step forward, and kisses him gently on the cheek. It tingles where her lips touch his skin, and he thinks that maybe he can feel something for her again, if he tries.

  
And then he looks back at Daryl, who's in an animated conversation with Carl that he can't hear, chewing on a sandwich - _finally eating_ , Rick thinks, triumphantly - and he wonders if he really wants to. Because he wants to be a good husband, wants to be the father Carl deserves, but he also feels a swell of something familiar in his chest when he looks at Daryl with his son. And all he wants is to take his hand and never let go.


	17. Chapter 17

Rick isn't sure how he feels about Daryl. It's complicated - that's about the only thing he _does_ know.

  
He knows there's _something_ , and that's more than he can say about Lori for the last few years. He spends the day thinking about ways he can get close to Daryl, little things like touching his shoulder or wanting to hold his hand. Daryl is warm and comforting, but he's also scared of a lot of things, and Rick doesn't want to do the wrong thing and accidentally end up driving him away.

  
He talks to Lori again, ends up telling her the whole story about how he met Daryl and how they became friends - leaving out the bits about wanting to be with him all the time and touch him whenever Daryl will let him. He tells her that he felt sorry for Daryl, and that's why he tried to get close to him; he thought Daryl deserved at least one person in the place who was on his side. He doesn't tell her about the scratches, figures she doesn't need to worry over nothing.

  
They join Daryl and Carl at the dining room table after they're done talking, interrupting a clearly enthralling conversation about hunting. He never really thought about it, but it makes sense that Daryl is a hunter; he can picture the brunet with a gun over his shoulder, catching his meals with his brother by his side. It doesn't surprise him at all, though it is a bit of a shock to hear his own son - who couldn't even set a mousetrap without feeling bad for the mouse - talking about wanting to give it a try sometime. He's only twelve years old - no way is Rick letting him even close to a gun at this age.

  
But it's nice to see them getting along. Carl is looking at Daryl like he hung the moon, waving his hands around animatedly. When Rick grabs a plate and sits down, they pause, but they pick up the conversation quickly after. Rick looks at Lori and she smiles, and all traces of doubt leave Rick; he knows he's going to get Daryl out, it's only a matter of time now.

  
Jenner doesn't join them for lunch, nor does he turn up to scold Rick about his lab accident this morning. Rick doesn't go looking for him; he figures he has plenty of time now to talk to him later.

  
"No way!" Carl is saying, his voice echoing around the empty hall. "Dad, can we go hunting with Daryl sometime?"

  
Rick shrugs, sharing a sideways glance with Lori. "We'll see. I suppose I could stand to learn to shoot a gun now, huh?"

  
He thinks about the Walkers at the baseball game, how close they came to getting hurt. He's the man of the house, he has to be the protector. But he's only held a gun once or twice - Shane's, when he asked him to years ago - and he's never fired one.

  
"Don't use a gun," Daryl mutters from Rick's other side. "Crossbow. Quieter."

  
That makes sense too, Rick thinks. Daryl is quiet, too. He's light on his feet, Rick has learned; he can walk across a room without making a sound. He doesn't say much either, but that just makes it all the more meaningful when he actually talks.

  
"That's even _cooler_ ," Carl says, his eyes lighting up. Rick hasn't seen the kid this happy in ages; he usually holes himself up in his room playing video games all day. When was the last time he actually had a real conversation with his own son? "Dad, can Daryl come with us? When we leave?"

  
Rick looks at Lori, who's still smiling. He takes that as a good sign that she hasn't changed her mind.

  
She nods. "Yes, he can," she says. Then she looks over at Daryl. "You're more than welcome to come with us. I don't know when we'll be back, though. And I don't think we can afford to bring anyone else."

  
"'s just me," Daryl says. "Ain't got no one else to bring. Thanks, though. Really appreciate it."

  
Rick looks at him, at the space between their chairs, and realizes that their legs are close enough to touch. If he wanted to, he could bump knees with the other man, press their thighs together and sit arm-to-arm. There are only a few inches separating them, but Lori is on his right, and she would _notice_. And then he'd have even more explaining to do, and he's not even sure what he'd say. That he has feelings for Daryl Dixon, of all people?

  
Does he?

  
He's not sure. He hasn't had feelings like this, thoughts like these, since he met Lori. He hasn't been with anyone else since her, even though she hasn't had the same problem. He wonders how she decided on _Shane_ , over all the other men she could have had. She picked him, and there must have been something to it. Some sort of algorithm that Rick doesn't know, a formula for deciding who's good enough, who's important enough for something like that.

  
Daryl is good, and he's important. And Rick really wants to push their legs together so he can feel that warmth again, that comfortable sensation of having another body so close. But he's not sure if that _means_ anything. Maybe he's just lonely, like Daryl is. Maybe some part of him secretly wants to get back at Lori for cheating on him. Or maybe he has real, honest-to-God feelings for Daryl Dixon. But until he knows for sure, he's not going to make a move. He can't risk losing the brunet over something that could turn out to be nothing at all.

  
He hears footsteps before he sees Jenner coming down the stairs, his eyes searching the room before landing on Rick. He nods and motions him towards the other end of the floor, by the bathrooms on the other side of the lab. Rick excuses himself, getting up and walking in the direction Jenner is moving towards. He looks back to see Carl, still chatting with Daryl, and Lori actually joining in. It looks so much like _family_ that it makes his chest ache.

  
"Rick," Jenner greets when they're together. Rick nods in greeting.

  
"Something you need, doctor?" Rick asks. He wants to ask about Daryl, but he doesn't dare; Jenner clearly has something to say to him, and he needs to hear him out first. Interrupting him isn't going to get Daryl out any faster.

  
Jenner is dressed nicely, shirt tucked into his pants, and he's wearing a large lab coat over his clothes. He looks like he's ready to work, but on _what_?

  
Jenner catches him looking. "Ah, just keeping up appearances. I know about the lab, Rick, but I'm not mad. It was bound to happen eventually. But that doesn't mean all is lost, and if I'm going to be here alone for a while, I'm going to need something to keep me busy."

  
"Sir?" Rick asks, feeling a swell of hope in his chest. "Alone?"

  
"I don't have any family in the area," Jenner says. "And you're taking yours with you when you leave, which should be any day now, I'm assuming? Not that I'm rushing you. Stay as long as you'd like."

  
"What about Daryl?" Rick asks, looking over at the brunet when he says his name. Daryl is laughing at something - Carl, too - and the sight makes Rick's knees feel weak.

  
"I've got his things all ready to go, upstairs in his room. The clothes he came in and some spares. Don't need them here anymore."

  
"What changed your mind?" Rick asks, turning to face Jenner again.

  
Jenner fiddles with the hem of his lab coat, fidgeting. "You, mostly. And him." Rick doesn't have to ask to know he's referring to Daryl. "How excited you were to get him out of his room - yes, I saw that. I passed by your bedroom last night, the door was open. It was nice of you to stay with him. He's been through a lot. And not just by us, here."

  
Rick wants to ask him what he means, but he's not sure he really wants to know. If what he saw on Daryl's back yesterday really was a scar, then there may be more. Hell, he could be covered in them underneath his sweatshirt for all Rick knows. Does Rick really want to know about his past? All he knows so far is that he had a druggie brother who had physical fights with him that somehow equated to love. Rick isn't sure he wants to know more than that right now.

  
"Thank you," Rick says with as much sincerity as he can. "And not just for letting us go. For him, too. Thank you."

  
Jenner gives him a tight smile, dropping his hands to his sides. "You're welcome. Use what time you have together wisely."

  
Rick nods and leaves to give Daryl the good news. Lori smiles and Carl - who doesn't even know who Daryl really is or that he wasn't allowed to leave - practically _glows_ with the news that Daryl can come with them. Even Daryl, who's usually reserved, beams and stands to give Rick a sideways hug, one arm thrown around his shoulders and the other on his opposite arm.

  
Rick's heart picks up its pace until he's certain everyone else can hear it, and he returns the hug with as much bodily contact as he can manage in front of his son - arms on arms, Daryl's breath in his ear. When they part, Rick's entire body tingles with the loss of contact and he keeps one hand on Daryl's bicep just to steady himself.

  
He gets another clap on his shoulder when they finally leave, and he relishes the moment. Daryl is smiling, standing by his side in the clothes - now clean - that he came in: a pair of jeans that fit him much better than Rick's, a dark blue button-up, and a denim vest with angel wings on the back. He looks so comfortable and content, and Rick can barely believe that he's here, by his side at last, and they're _leaving_.

  
They pack their suitcases into the car, and it's only when they're driving away, past the now-abandoned military outpost a block away from the lab, that the warning in Jenner's words really hits him. He looks at the people near him - Lori in the passenger seat and Daryl and Carl in the back chatting - and wonders what it would be like losing one of them, any of them. He doesn't think he could bear it. And for a moment, just a second, he almost regrets leaving the safety of the lab. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're outta here! Wonder where we'll be heading next? 
> 
> On a side note, reading this story back (I wrote it a while ago and just worked up the courage to post it), it's really kind of boring. Badly written, I think. My other story, Roses are Red, is much better in my opinion. So if you only have a few minutes to spare, please read that one instead!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually getting sick of my own story. Re-reading it is almost painful. I hope you guys like it anyway? I'll be hiding in the corner if you need me.

They're on the freeway by noon the next day - according to Rick's watch, because his cell phone has a dead battery and there's no place to plug it in on the road. Surprisingly, there's no one there to stop them. The military base set up a block away from the lab is gone, as are all the other ones on the way out of the city. They must have seen sense and left, just like everyone else, Rick thinks.

  
Shane is driving behind them in his dirty red pick-up truck, the back packed to the brim with stuff - food, water, clothes, a couple of guns from the station that he figures nobody will miss. Rick, Carl, Lori, and Daryl are all squeezed into Rick's shiny blue SUV. Lori tried calling Shane to let him know they were coming to pick him up, but the phone line cut out before it could connect, so they ended up waiting for him at the station. He was entirely too happy to get to leave work early, even more so knowing that they finally took his advice to leave the city.

  
They stop by Daryl's trailer on the way out of town, and it takes him all of ten minutes to pack all of his most important possessions, which includes a crossbow - larger than Rick anticipated - and a quiver of arrows. He slings them over his shoulder on the walk back to the car, and Rick thinks he's never seen anything more _natural_ than Daryl Dixon with a crossbow; he looks so calm and composed, the complete opposite of the way he was at the lab, at least when Rick wasn't with him one-on-one. He's in his element, Rick realizes, and he's more grateful than ever that they got him out.

  
The highway is busy, filled with cars on their way out of the city; Rick looks over into the other set of lanes and sees that there are no cars coming into Atlanta. Eventually, they end up in a clogged piece of road with nowhere else to go, so Rick parks the car and they all get out to stretch.

  
"Thanks for takin' me with you," Daryl says after Lori and Carl get out of the car. "Didn't have to, you know. Would'a been fine on my own, but thanks."

  
"I know you would have," Rick says, and he does. Daryl strikes him as a good survivalist, someone who could fend for himself in the middle of the woods if he had to. But he also strikes Rick as a lonely man, especially now that his brother is gone. "But you're welcome. I wanted you here, don't think I didn't."

  
"And your wife?"

  
"She's part of the reason why you're here," he says. "She agreed before I even told her everything, so I wouldn't worry about that. And Carl already likes you, you know. You should'a seen the way his eyes lit up when you came out with that bow. Like the kid wants to be a hunter now or something. I've never heard a thing about it till now."

  
They climb out of the car and stand by the side of the road. Shane is sitting in the bed of his truck, picking through their rations; he jumps out and hands each of them a water bottle, keeping the last one for himself.

  
"So, Daryl," Shane begins, and Rick can tell by the serious tone in his voice that this is a conversation that will probably make Daryl uncomfortable. "What were you doing in that lab in the first place? All locked up like that?"

  
Rick thinks Shane probably already knows the answer - Lori briefed him on everything he needed to know, which likely included a few things about Daryl, too. Rick hates that Shane chose now of all times to ask. Daryl ducks his head, turning red up to the tips of his ears, and Rick answers for him before he can say anything.

  
"It was a precaution," he says quickly. "That's all. They weren't sure if he'd wind up infected or not. He didn't," he adds, choosing not to tell the others that the infection is really inside all of them. It would cause unnecessary worry, especially from Lori, and the last thing they need right now is even _more_ to worry about.

  
"How do you know he won't?" Shane asks, talking about Daryl like he isn't standing right across from him. Daryl is staring at the ground, his water bottle held tightly between both hands.

  
"It's been too long," Rick says, resisting the urge to reach out and pull one of Daryl's hands away from the bottle and into his own. Anything to calm the brunet, who seems to be shrinking in on himself more with each word. "If it was going to happen, it would have after the first couple of days. It starts with a fever, and he hasn't got one, never did. We're safe, I swear to you. I wouldn't have brought him along if I didn't think we were."

  
Rick shoots Daryl a smile that he thinks he brunet must see out of the corner of his eye, because Daryl looks up just a fraction of an inch and quirks the corner of his mouth in response.

  
"Why _did_ you bring him along?" Shane asks, and Rick really, really wants to punch his best friend right now.

  
"'m gonna just... wait in the car," Daryl says suddenly, voice low, and he backs away without a sound. Rick glares daggers at Shane, who seems completely unphased, still waiting for an answer.

  
Rick hears the car door shut behind him and feels the hollow of the empty space beside him. Carl is in the back of the pickup playing some video game Rick couldn't name if his life depended on it, and Lori is standing on Rick's other side, watching the exchange silently. Rick wishes she would say something, anything to steer the conversation away from Daryl, because Rick has no idea what to say. Shane is hard to handle even on his best days, but Lori has always been better at it than Rick.

  
"Now look what you've done," Rick says. "Talking about him like he wasn't right there. You scared him away."

  
"I scared him away? He's a grown man, Rick. Just answer my question."

  
Rick sighs and runs a hand through his hair, unknotting several curls. "His brother just died, Shane. He had to watch it happen. He doesn't have any other family left and I couldn't just leave him there in that lab. They had him caged like a wild animal. It wasn't right."

  
Shane is quick to respond. "Then drop him off back home, let him deal with this himself. Don't just endanger your family like that, over a man you just met."

  
" _Shane_ ," Lori hisses under her breath, and it's enough to shut Shane up immediately. Rick feels a sudden swell of pride for his wife; she's always been able to control him and Shane, no matter what kind of arguments they got into. She can control either of them, really; Rick has never been able to win against his wife.

  
"I can't," Rick says into the silence that follows. He's not even sure why he's talking anymore; he doesn't need to, the conversation is as good as over. But once he starts he can't stop. "I couldn't stand not knowing if he lived or died, okay? So we're taking him with us. End of discussion."

  
Rick tries for his best authoritative voice, but it doesn't work as well as Lori's. Shane still keeps his mouth shut, giving a single, curt nod like it's taking everything he has in him just to make that one gesture.

  
"It's fine with me," Lori says. "Rick trusts him. I don't see a problem with having an extra person around to watch our backs."

  
Rick puts an arm around Lori's shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. "Thank you," he says under his breath so Shane can't hear. She nods, throwing her hand over his, and they stand like that for a few minutes. It feels nice, Rick thinks. Just nice, but that's better than feeling nothing at all. She is still his wife, after all.

  
It's different with Daryl, he notes. Different, better maybe, but definitely not the same. With Lori he feels love, but it's not the same love he felt for her when they were first married, the love between a man and his wife. He cares deeply about her, but he's not in love with her anymore. He's not in love with Daryl, either, he doesn't know the brunet enough for that. But he feels something.

  
He slips away after another minute, joining Daryl in the back seat of the car. Daryl looks a little shaken, but otherwise alright, still holding his water bottle tightly enough to squeeze in the sides. Rick breathes a sigh of relief.

  
"Hey," he says. "Shane didn't mean anything by it, you know. He's a cop, he's just looking out for everyone. But you're not here because of him, you're here for me, alright? So what he says doesn't matter."

  
Daryl doesn't look convinced. "You really want me here, Rick? 'round your kid? Don't even know me, really."

  
"Hey," Rick says again, reaching up and pushing a stray piece of hair out of Daryl's face. Daryl cocks his head up just enough to look Rick in the eye with a curious expression. "I know enough to trust you. Got no reason not to. So it's fine."

  
"'m not used to so many people. Askin' so many questions."

  
Rick grins. "Yeah, but you could probably kick Shane's ass if he went too far. You look tougher than him, and he's a cop."

  
Daryl smiles, another genuine show of teeth that makes Rick's heart thud just a few beats too fast. He wonders what it means that Lori's smiles don't do that to him, not anymore.

  
"'ve dealt with cops before," Daryl says. "Not for me, my brother. Merle was in jail every other weekend. DUI's mostly. Never seen your buddy 'fore, though."

  
"He mostly dealt with domestics, stuff like that. Worked nights. Had a few close calls with Walkers last week, too. That's what made us decide to pack up and lay low for a while."

  
Daryl cringes a little at the word 'Walker'. "Makes sense. I'd'a done the same. Probably would've, after Merle, if they hadn't..."

  
"I know," Rick says. "But you've got the chance now. So, if you could go anywhere, where would you go?"

  
Rick doesn't get to hear his answer, because at that exact moment a loud _boom_ echoes through the air. It startles Rick so badly he automatically reaches out and grabs Daryl's hand, squeezing tightly, looking around frantically for the source of the noise. Daryl, beside him, is doing the same, his eyes roving around like they did back at the lab, when he thought everyone was out to get him and nowhere was safe.   
Rick sees it almost immediately: a billowing cloud of smoke in the distance, curling up from miles behind the car. He spins in his seat, still holding Daryl's hand, and watches as another _boom_ rocks the air and sends smokestacks high into the sky.

  
Lori is standing outside, bent over with Shane towering over her like he's ready to protect her if the threat comes any closer. Rick doesn't even care; he's just glad that both of them are safe. He looks around for Carl and finds him laying low in the bed of Shane's pickup, his game discarded at his side. He breathes a sigh of relief; his family is safe. For now.

  
He looks back to the city. Helicopters are flying low over the tallest buildings, dropping explosives into the city below. Lights flicker, then go out completely; towering skyscrapers collapse into themselves. He watches the lab, one of the tallest, broadest structures for miles, pitch sideways to the ground. He thinks about Glenn and Andrea - if they got out in time. He thinks about Jenner, who probably didn't.   
He thinks about his neighbors, who were still keeping to themselves in their houses when he passed by on his way to Daryl's trailer on the other side of town. He thinks about the PTA moms at Carl's school, the other kids, his friends, the children whose parents thought the city was still safe enough to stay for one more day. He thinks about his own friends, Shane's partners on the force, the brave police officers who were still fighting a lost cause up until the end.

  
Rick watches in silent horror as Atlanta and everyone in it crumbles into dust.


	19. Chapter 19

They end up camping out in the cars overnight. Shane and Carl take the folded-down seats in the SUV, with Lori and Rick in the back of Shane's pickup and Daryl in the front seat. Rick is thankful that Daryl is so close; he doesn't think he would have trusted letting him sleep so close to Shane, even with Carl right next to him. He loves Shane like a brother, but sometimes he hates him just as much.

  
He tries to sleep, he really does, but the events of the last few days keep playing out in his head and it's hard to concentrate on anything else. All of them involve Daryl in some way, he realizes; even the little things like sleeping overnight in the lab and going home to his family the next morning. Everything he's been doing for two and a half weeks has been about Daryl.

  
Christ, has it really only been that long?

  
"Lori, you awake?" he asks into the darkness. He hears shuffling from beside him and feels her eyes on him even though he can't see her.

  
"Yes," she says, not an ounce of sleep in her voice. "Have been all night. Can't sleep knowing what's out there. You?"

  
He nods until he realizes she can't see it. "Same. I can't stop thinking. About everything."

  
Lori hums, shifting again, and he knows she's laying on her side looking at him. Or looking in his general direction, since the blanket of darkness makes it difficult to see much of anything.

  
"Hey," he says softly, hoping it's enough to keep from waking Daryl up. "Can I ask you something?"

  
"Sure."

  
"Promise you won't get mad?" he says, parroting her words back at her.

  
He can feel her small smile even in the dark. "I can try."

  
"You and Shane," he begins, treading carefully. "Did you love him? When you were with him?"

  
He knows as soon as he's said it that he's crossed a line, one that he can't step back over no matter how much he wants to. But she doesn't seem upset - at least, not outwardly so.

  
"It was complicated, Rick," she says. "I don't think I loved him, but..."

  
"You don't love me, either," he finishes, and her silence says enough. "It's okay. We haven't been ourselves in a long time, and I understand. I get why you did it, I really do."

  
"Rick..."

  
"No, it's fine. I just... How did you know? That whatever you felt about him was enough?"

  
He's not asking her about the affair, he's asking her about _Shane_ , and how she feels about him. Rick knows it isn't love, it hasn't been long enough - or maybe it has, he's not sure - but it was _something_. And that's a lot more than he's had with Lori in a long time.

  
Lori doesn't answer for several long minutes. She sighs and shifts again, this time onto her back, and Rick thinks that maybe, even under the shroud of darkness, she doesn't want to face him when she gives her answer.

  
"Things were just _different_. With him. Sparks, little things felt like _more_ , more than they did with you. And I'm sorry for that, I truly am. But you know that we haven't been together as long as we've been husband and wife. When you touch me, do you still feel something?"

  
"It's there," he says, softly. "Something small, maybe. But not as much as..." _As with Daryl_ , his mind supplies. When he held Daryl's hand, it was warm and it just felt _right_. With Lori all he feels is leftover sparks, like a flame that's died down to embers. Not like what they used to have, and they both know it.

  
What does that mean? For Rick? For _Daryl_?

  
"As there used to be," she finishes for him, and he thinks, no, that's not right, but doesn't say anything. Because what's he supposed to say? That he's starting to develop _feelings_ for Daryl, of all people? He doesn't even know if that's true, and even if it is, there's nothing he can do about it. He should just quit while he still can, before things get messy and he ends up doing something stupid. Again.

  
"It's okay, Lori," he says. "It's okay to not be in love with me anymore. I still love you, but it's not the same. And I don't think any amount of marriage counseling is going to make this any easier."

  
"I don't love Shane, though," she says, and he can hear the barest hint of unshed tears in her wavering voice. "I thought I did, but I don't. He was just an excuse, and I shouldn't have used him like that. I shouldn't have done that to either of you, and I'm sorry I did."

  
Rick reaches out to touch her and ends up with his hand on her wrist, holding gently and rubbing circles into her skin. She curls her fingers into his palm and holds them there. He feels like if he lets her go, he'll be letting go of more than just her wrist, so he keeps his hold on her a little longer.

  
He falls asleep with his hand in hers, and the smell of smoke still lingering in the air.

  
\---

  
It's a herd that eventually forces them out of their cars.

  
It's been two days since they parked on the freeway, waiting for the road to clear, and it's been chaos ever since. Families fighting, people looting other cars, panic in every direction. It calms down after the first day, after it becomes apparent that none of them are going anywhere any time soon.

  
So Rick and his family settle. They have enough food for a month, canned goods, shelf stable pantry items, water in huge jugs and small plastic bottles. They're better off than some of the others who left the city with only the clothes on their backs. The spend the days talking to each other - about anything and nothing all at once. Rick learns a few more things about Daryl, and in exchange offers up some things of his own. He thinks he talks more about Carl than he ever has, probably because, before Daryl and after Lori, Carl was all he really had.

  
It's the afternoon of the second full day parked on the freeway when they hear it: someone screaming, about a mile ahead. The sound carries, and with it comes several other shouts, coming like a wave down the road until they reach Rick and Shane's cars.

  
Rick jumps out of the bed of the pickup and asks the first person he sees, a middle-aged man with a greying moustache, "What's going on? Can you see up ahead?"

  
The man shakes his head. "Can't see it, but heard from Jim, next car over, that there's monsters comin'. Whole bunch of 'em. I'd clear out if I was you."

  
As soon as the man has finished relaying his message, he and a woman Rick assumes is his wife take off down the road, each carrying a bag filled to the brim on their backs. Rick looks around; dozens of other groups have begun abandoning their cars, throwing whatever they can carry over their shoulders. A few people are standing on top of their vehicles, like they expect the height to be an advantage against the Walkers that are coming. There are even a couple of people armed with shotguns, holding them out towards the curve in the road. Rick wants to warn them that there's no point in staying and trying to fight; that these things are monsters that are hard to kill, and in a _group_... Rick can't even imagine how impossible the odds of beating something like that would be.

  
"We've got to get out of here," he says to the others, filling his suitcase - already packed with enough clothes for a couple of weeks - with whatever food and water will fit. Shane and Lori do the same, packing Carl's bag as well. Rick looks for Daryl and finds him on the side of the road, bag already packed, waiting for the rest of them.

  
Rick locks his car and pockets the key, just in case they make it back after the herd is gone. Daryl leads them into the woods, stepping lightly even on fallen tree branches and making so little sound Rick has to keep an eye on him just to assure himself that he's still with them.

  
They run into one lone Walker on their way. It frightens Carl, who curls against his mother's side and hides his face while Rick raises the gun Shane gave him, ready to shoot it if it comes their way. His pulse echoes in his ears, and for the first time since the baseball game, he's _scared_.

  
He's never shot a gun before, and he only knows the basics of what Shane has taught him. But to learn about it in theory is one thing; facing a real monster head-on is another.

  
The Walker itself is fairly unintimidating, just a young man of average build who looks like he died just a few days ago, so he's not even decomposing or anything. But his eyes are sunken in, clouded white, and his cheeks are hollow. He's wearing torn clothing and there's a huge patch of blood on his chest, like he was shot or maybe stabbed to death.

  
Daryl steps in front of Rick, crossbow raised.

  
"Waste of bullets," he says, shooting his bow and hitting the thing right in the middle of its eyes. He pulls the bolt out, wipes it off on his pants, and tucks it back into the quiver on his back.

  
Rick would ordinarily be weary of something like that - wiping Walker blood of on clothes that could come in contact with skin, could cause an infection or worse. But now that he knows that everyone is infected, that blood doesn't do anything unless it makes it into the body somehow - bite or scratch or whatever - he's less fearful. It's not infection that he's afraid of now, it's losing his family. And that, apparently, includes Daryl now too.

  
Daryl continues to lead the group, and nobody protests - not even Shane. He seems to realize after a few minutes of walking that Daryl knows what he's doing and where he's going. Rick doesn't know where he would go even if he was in charge of picking a place; a smaller city, somewhere in the middle of nowhere like a farm, something small with as few people as possible but close enough to a larger area for supply runs. Because eventually they're going to run out of food, and somebody is going to have to be brave enough to go back into the city to get more.

  
If there's anything left of Atlanta to scavenge, that is.

  
It's nearly nightfall when they finally arrive at their destination - a large quarry around a lake, surrounded by trees on all sides but with enough clear space to see around for miles. It's perfect, Rick thinks, silently thanking Daryl for having enough sense to lead them here. There's only one problem, however.

  
It's already been claimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter coming soon to make up for this little, crappy one. I've pretty much given up faith on this story. I just don't like it anymore :( But I feel like since it's already written, I should post it. You guys deserve to know the ending, even though I don't like it.


	20. Chapter 20

A small group of people are already camped out in the quarry, with tents pitched around their cars and fires burning down to the embers surrounded by lawn chairs. They enter the clearing and Rick takes a step forward, towards the group, intending on asking just to stay the night, when he trips over a string tied between two trees and lands on the ground with a _clang_ of soup cans near his feet. A trap for Walkers, he assumes. And uninvited guests.

  
Daryl is at his side in a second, pulling him back to his feet. As soon as he's standing up straight again he hears the click of a gun from his side and turns to see two pistols, one pointed at his head, the other at Daryl. The man holding the one closest to Daryl looks fierce, a towering black man with a hint of stubble on his chin that Rick can just make out in the light from the fires. And the woman pointing her gun at Rick's forehead looks... _familiar_.

  
"Rick?" he hears in the darkness, and he would recognize that voice anywhere.

  
"Andrea?" he asks, and he hears the clicking of the safety going back on as she lowers the gun. She nods at the man next to Daryl, who reluctantly lowers his own weapon and takes a step back into the camp.

  
"What are you doing here?" Rick asks, trying to think of the last time he saw her. It was at the lab, a day or so before they left. He figured she would have left the city, but what are the odds that she chooses the same place to camp out that Daryl does? He never would have pegged her as a survivalist, someone who could find a place like this in the middle of the woods.

  
"Took off a couple days ago. Me and my sister, Amy. We found this place on accident, really; got lost in the woods trying to get out of the city and here we are. Glenn's here too."

  
Someone waves from near the closest fire and Rick assumes it's Glenn. He waves back.

  
Lori puts a hand on his shoulder, stepping closer to him. "You know these people, Rick?"

  
"They were scientists at the lab. Jenner told me they left but didn't say where they were going. Didn't know you could handle a gun," he says to Andrea.

  
She smiles, teeth glowing in the dim light. "I'm a quick learner. You?" She nods down to the gun holstered at his hip.

  
"No idea, actually. Never used one. Just carrying it as a precaution."

  
"Well, come on in, then. Let's get you set up for the night and we can do introductions in the morning."

  
Andrea leads them through the camp to a line of tents surrounded by vehicles - even an RV, Rick hasn't seen one of those in years.

  
"Don't have much space," Andrea explains, counting out the number of people in Rick's group. "You'll have to share. Is that okay?"

  
Rick looks at his wife, who nods. "It's fine with me."

  
"I'm not sleeping in a tent with some stranger," Shane says from behind Rick; he's almost forgotten his friend was with them. "I'll keep watch, sleep outside." He holds up his gun, clicks the safety off and on again. Andrea gives him a look but in the low light away from the fires it's hard to tell if she's impressed or put off.

  
Lori ends up sleeping in the girls' tent with Andrea and Amy, who doesn't look at all like her sister except for the same long blonde hair. Daryl, Rick, and Carl share the last tent, which is barely large enough to accommodate all of them.

  
"I can sleep outside, too," Daryl offers, peering inside the tent warily. "Done it before, no problem."

  
"It's no different than the lab," Rick tells him. "I'll be right next to you. That's okay, isn't it?"

  
Daryl nods silently. Carl is already inside of the tent, his video game on mute with the flashing screen visible through the open flap in the tent.

  
"Then what's the problem?"

  
"Nothin'." Daryl throws his bag inside of the tent and puts a foot in after it. "'s fine."

  
Rick thinks there's something Daryl still isn't telling him. Maybe it's something to do with how close they'll all be sleeping in such a small tent; Daryl doesn't like to be touched, Rick knows that, but he's been fine with the small touches Rick has been attempting the last few days. He even hugged Rick, something Rick knows he would only do with someone he really trusts. Is it Carl? But they've been getting along so well lately. Daryl isn't afraid of Carl, not like he was of Jenner and the other scientists.

  
Maybe that's the problem. Andrea and Glenn were there at the lab the entire time Daryl was; maybe there's something about them Rick doesn't know. Whatever it is, if it's making Daryl uncomfortable, Rick is determined to find out and make it right.

  
They crawl into the tent, Daryl on the left by the door, Rick in the middle, and Carl on his other side by the closed window flap. It's a muggy Georgia night; the thin blankets in the tent are more than enough to keep them warm. Daryl pulls his pack open and takes out his sleep clothes - more sweats, no surprise, probably the same pair Jenner gave him as a sort of 'going away gift.' These are dark blue rather than the ratty beige of the ones at the lab, though, and they're in much better shape. Rick sleeps in sweat pants and a tee-shirt, so he can't really judge Daryl's choice. Carl is already dressed - head-to-toe flannel, typical twelve-year-old boy sleepwear.

  
Daryl eyes his clothes like he expects them to take off walking. "Um..." he hesitates, glancing up at Rick. "Could you just...?"

  
It takes Rick a moment to understand, but it clicks and the second it does he just knows. "Oh," he says. "Yeah. Of course. Carl, let's go. Give Daryl some privacy."

  
Carl looks up from his video game long enough to exit the tent, and then his eyes are glued once again on the flickering screen. Rick wonders what it'll be like once the batteries run out; he didn't think to bring any spares.

  
Rick watches Daryl's silhouette through the tent, standing and stretching as he removes his jacket and shirt and throws on his sleep top. Rick can respect a man who values his privacy; he understands completely. Daryl barely knows them, and why should he trust them enough to change in front of them? But something doesn't sit right with Rick, all the same; like whatever he saw underneath Daryl's shirt the other day. He gets the feeling that there are things Daryl won't share with anyone, not even Rick.

  
The tent unzips after a few minutes and Daryl comes out, barefoot and dressed in dark blue. The color brings out his eyes and really suits him, Rick thinks. He must have looked for a minute too long because Daryl ducks his head suddenly, the tips of his ears turning red, and Rick smiles at the affect he's had on the other man.

  
Carl, oblivious, clicks away at his gaming console. Rick ducks into the tent and changes into his own sleepwear, and by the time he's done, he comes out to see Daryl and Carl involved in a heated debate about video games of all things.

  
"'m just sayin'. If you'd had the power-up you wouldn't've lost."

  
"Maybe, but let's see you do better!" Carl hands Daryl the game, and he quickly passes it back.

  
"Nah," Daryl says, glancing up at Rick as he exists the tent. "If I wanted to fight monsters, all I'd have to do's go back to Atlanta."

  
Carl pouts, taking back his video game and pressing wildly at the controls again. "You're just mad I would've won," he mutters.

  
"Sure," Daryl says, smiling. He reaches out and ruffles Carl's hair, messing up the back, a single strand sticking straight up. Rick thinks he even hears a light chuckle out of Daryl, but it's over as quickly as it comes.

  
"C'mon you two," Rick says, putting a hand on Carl's shoulder. He almost puts the other on Daryl's but thinks better of it. He doesn't want to look desperate or come across as too touchy; he could scare Daryl away too easily and that's the last thing he wants. "Bed time. That means no more video games, young man."

  
"Aww, man." Carl reluctantly puts away his game, powering it down and setting it in the outside pocket of his backpack.

  
Getting to sleep isn't easy. Rick is kept awake by the sounds outside, the worry over his current situation, and Daryl. Mostly Daryl, though.

  
Daryl shifts around uncomfortably during the night. Every time he accidentally touches Rick - shoulders brushing, legs bumping together - he pulls away quickly, scooting closer to the door of the tent until the side of his face is pressed against the fabric. Rick knows he can't be comfortable, but he's not sure what to do to help.

  
Carl is out like a light in just a few minutes, sleeping on his side with his mouth hanging open and his legs everywhere. Rick envies the kid; sometimes he wishes he could go back to a time when life was that simple - school, video games, where the biggest struggle is what kind of cereal to have for breakfast. But things are changing now, and Carl isn't going to be growing up in that kind of a world anymore.

  
Rick wants to ask Daryl what's wrong, but he doesn't dare speak into the calm silence in the tent. Crickets chirp outside and he can hear the chattering of voices from the next tent, but he can't make out any words. He thinks he hears Lori's laugh, loud and distinct, once.

  
Daryl shifts again, turning until his front is to the door and his arms are crossed over his stomach. Rick knows he's still awake, can hear it in his breathing, can see it in the uneven rising and falling of his chest. Rick watches for a minute, waiting for him to still, but his hands are restless and his breathing is erratic. He could be fighting a nightmare, Rick realizes, but he isn't thrashing around so much as fidgeting, tossing and turning like he can't find a comfortable spot to lay.

  
Maybe this is why he offered to sleep outside.

  
Rick isn't bothered, he's concerned. Something is clearly upsetting Daryl, and he wishes he knew how to put him at ease.

  
Daryl moves again and Rick, feeling brave, decides to try something. He slips a hand out from under his blanket and puts it on Daryl's side, stilling him. Daryl freezes but doesn't complain, doesn't move Rick's hand, so Rick takes that as a sign. Slowly, he moves his hand across Daryl's stomach, inching his way down his arm with his fingertips. He keeps his touch feather-light, rubbing circles in his skin as he goes. He listens to Daryl's breathing for cues, speeding up and slowing down in time with his exhales.

  
Once he gets to Daryl's hand, thrown across his stomach, he stops. He pulls Daryl's fist loose and places his own hand inside, curling their fingers together. Daryl's breath hitches for a moment, picking up pace, and Rick watches him visibly begin to relax, shoulders losing tension and the stiffness in his arm loosening. He grips onto Rick's hand gently, and his breathing starts to even out.

  
They fall asleep like that, Rick listening to the sound of Daryl's breathing and Daryl holding onto his hand. It's so peaceful, so warm and comfortable, that Rick almost forgets about the troubles of the world outside. He thinks, if he could stay like this forever, he would; his family close by, Daryl at his side, everything quiet and still. It's when he wakes up that the illusion shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gettin' there, guys. Hang in there.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I think I forgot to update this for a couple of days. Sorry! I haven't forgotten it, don't worry. And my other fanfic will also be updated tonight, so please check that one out as well!

Rick wakes up to Daryl having a panic attack, and if that isn't the worst thing he can think of opening his eyes to after such an amazing night's sleep, he doesn't know what is.

  
Daryl is sitting up with his back to Rick, and at first Rick thinks he's just deep in thought, hunched over with his head in his hands. But then he looks closer, hears how labored his breathing is, how hard his inhales are and how fast his chest is rising and falling with each panicked breath. His hands are in his hair, pulling hard enough to come away with strands between his fingertips. Rick's first instinct is to get him to _stop_ , no matter what he has to do, hold him down and pin his hands above his head no matter how much he hates physical contact. But he realizes that going in too strong could do more harm than good, and he's really out of his depth here.

  
Lori might know what to do; she used to have a friend in their old neighborhood, before Carl, who had panic attacks sometimes. But she was only around for one or two, and she never talked about them after. Rick doesn't think Lori would even remember what to do if he asked, and he doesn't have time. He can't just go out looking for her and leave Daryl in here all alone.

  
He looks around for Carl, but he isn't there. His backpack is open in the front and his video game is gone, so Rick figures he's outside lost to the world somewhere. Rick wonders for a split second how early Carl woke up, what he saw. Did he see his father holding Daryl Dixon's hand, somewhere between a hug and an _embrace_ , however they stayed in their sleep? Or did Daryl finally realize what Rick was doing and untangle himself before Carl could see?

  
Rick shakes his head, turning his full attention back to Daryl. Daryl, who's struggling to breathe, holding onto his throat like he's choking.

  
Rick scrambles to his knees and crawls across the tent to Daryl, sitting so he's facing the brunet, who doesn't even look up.

  
"Daryl," Rick says, trying to keep his voice calm. "Daryl, can you hear me?"

  
Daryl finally looks at him through the hair in his face, his dark blue eyes pleading. He nods once, just a small movement of his head, his hands still at his throat. He moves one of them down to the neck of his shirt and pulls like the fabric is suffocating him. Rick knows it isn't, but it probably feels like it is; he's never had a panic attack, but he can understand Daryl's motions, the way his hands are scrabbling around at everything he can reach and his eyes are roving again just like they did back at the lab.

  
At the lab, Rick realizes - this _must_ have happened to him at least once there. And Rick hadn't done anything to help, he'd just let it happen. He's determined not to make the same mistake twice.

  
The first thing he does is pull Daryl's hands away from his neck, holding one in each of his own. Daryl makes fists, squeezing tightly, and Rick works with his fingers to ease the muscles in his hands enough for him to open them. After a few seconds, he does, and Rick lets go.

  
"Hey," Rick whispers, crouching down to look into Daryl's eyes. "Breathe with me, okay? Take a deep breath, c'mon."

  
Rick takes several large, over-exaggerated breaths and Daryl copies him, sputtering on the first few until he can finally fill his lungs to the brim. Rick puts a hand on his shoulder and holds it there, squeezing gently. Daryl's shoulders are tense; Rick can feel the muscles coiling underneath his fingers.

  
"There you go," Rick says after another minute, once Daryl's breathing has evened out again. "Feeling any better?"

  
Daryl nods again and his entire body seems to relax at once, his muscles going limp and his head falling forward, chin to his neck. He slumps against the side of the tent, one shoulder bumping against Rick's, and gulps in air like a drowning survivor.

  
"Thanks," he chokes out, his voice low and strained.

  
Rick gives him a few minutes, until his panting gradually turns into composed, even breathing. His body is sagging between the wall of the tent and Rick's arm, and the pressure on his shoulder is incredibly comforting. Rick keeps his breathing slow, timing his exhales with Daryl's until he's certain the other man has calmed down enough to talk.

  
"So," he says. Daryl's eyes are closed, but he hums to show his attention. "Wanna tell me what that was about?"

  
Daryl sighs. "No," he says. "But I would if ya asked me. Know I would."

  
"Then tell me. Please."

  
Daryl breathes out slowly, then sucks in a quick breath. "Don't like small spaces."

  
"You're claustrophobic?"

  
"Yeah."

  
Daryl blinks his eyes open and looks down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs together in his lap.

  
"Why didn't you tell me?" Rick asks, thinking about the night before - about Daryl's hesitance to get into the small, cramped tent. "Is it because of the lab? The room they kept you in?"

  
Daryl shrugs, and Rick can feel the motion throughout his entire body. "Didn't help. But probably not."

  
"You should have said something. I could have tried to help, I don't know. Done something."

  
"You did. Help." Rick feels Daryl's weight shift until he's leaning more against Rick than the tent. "You moved 'fore I woke up. 's all."

  
It takes Rick a few seconds to realize that Daryl is telling him that the hand-holding - whatever they were doing last night, whatever _Rick_ was doing - had helped. It had calmed down Daryl's panic just enough to get him to sleep, but when he woke up Rick had moved in his sleep and Daryl panicked. Rick feels relieved, and not just because Daryl isn't freaking out anymore - because it wasn't his fault. Daryl didn't panic because Rick touched him, because Rick got too close, but because he _didn't_. And that makes a world of difference to Rick.

  
He puts an arm around Daryl's shoulders and squeezes gently. "C'mon. Let's go meet everybody."

  
\---

  
Andrea introduces them to at least a dozen other people, the names of whom Rick can never hope to remember. Dale, Carol, T-Dog, a tall black woman with a strong southern accent, a man with thick-rimmed glasses and a lisp. A young girl around Carl's age named Sophia, who carries around a stuffed doll called 'Annie.' Andrea's little sister Amy, who's cheerful and childish and almost the complete opposite of her sister.

  
After the introductions, Glenn sets them up around the fire with plates of food - canned peaches, instant oatmeal, watered down coffee. Rick is so hungry after having not eaten since yesterday afternoon that he finishes his food first, and he takes the extra time he has to watch Daryl eat, to make sure he finishes. He knows from experience that Daryl will only eat if he has to, and he's gotten too thin for his tall frame because of it. Rick wants to say something to him, but he can't without bringing up his past, which is apparently a very sore subject with Daryl.

  
"So, Rick," Dale - at least Rick thinks that's his name - asks over breakfast during a lull in the flow of conversation. "What brings you and your crew out this far from the city?"

  
"Didn't you see the bombings?" Rick asks, and immediately regrets it. A thick silence follows, and he knows everyone is staring at him. He looks down at his plate. "I'm sorry, I just assumed..."

  
"We heard them," Glenn says. "Wasn't sure what it was or where it was coming from. That was Atlanta?"

  
Rick nods, solemn. "Yeah. Whole city, down in just a few minutes."

  
There's a moment of silence, like they're all grieving for the lost city. Andrea is the first to break is.

  
"Did Jenner get out?" she asks, uncertain, like she already knows the answer.

  
Rick shakes his head slowly. "I don't think so. We barely got out in time, and he said he was staying."

  
"But you don't know?"

  
"No. I guess I don't."

  
"Okay."

  
Rick looks back over at Dale. "We were on the freeway, trying to get out of the city when it happened. A herd of Walkers drove us out and we ended up here. Thanks to Daryl."

  
Daryl shoots him a small, sideways smile and looks back down at his half-eaten plate of food. Rick doesn't understand how he can't be hungry; Rick ate everything he was given and his stomach is _still_ growling unpleasantly. Lori, who's eating for two now, was slipped extra peaches by Andrea, who she must have told last night about her pregnancy. Nobody else knows, besides Rick's family and Shane. He's not even sure if Daryl knows yet.

  
And how would he ever go about trying to explain that? 'My wife cheated on me and now she's pregnant with Shane's baby, but it's okay because I think I might have feelings for you now'? If he hasn't scared Daryl away by now, that's sure to do the trick.

  
"Did you see one?" Carol asks, her voice wavering slightly. "A Walker? Up close?"

  
"Yeah," Rick says. "Just one, away from the rest."

  
"You don't think they could come here, do you?"

  
"No," Lori cuts in, the first time she's spoken since last night. "We're too far off from the herd. They were headed back towards the city. We're safe here for now."

  
She says it like she expects 'for now' not to last as long as Rick hopes it does. He wants this to work, this group of misfits he's found. He wants them to become his family, and he wants them to live. If the Walkers find them, some of them might not make it out alive, like his neighbors or the Morales family. And he doesn't even want to think about what he would do if something like that happened to Lori, or Carl, or Shane, or _Daryl_. It would destroy him.

  
Rick excuses himself, throwing his paper plate into the embers of last night's fire and making his way to the shadiest tree he can see - a huge oak with a trunk as wide as he is tall. He sits underneath the shade and closes his eyes, letting the sun shine down on his eyelids. He hears a crunch of dried leaves and he doesn't have to look up to know that it's Daryl, crouching down next to him on the grass.

  
"You okay?" Daryl asks, his gruff voice surprisingly comforting, especially now that Rick can't see him.

  
Rick hums. "Yeah." He thinks for a long minute, listening to the sound of Daryl shifting on the grass beside him until he's comfortable. "You're not going anywhere, right? I mean, even if you wanted to, you'd tell me? You wouldn't just take off?"

  
"What're you talking about?" Daryl asks from right next to his ear. "Not leaving. Already told you that. 've got nowhere else to go now."

  
"But even if you did, I wouldn't blame you. You can go, if you want. But I don't want you to." Rick sighs, exhaling slowly. "I want you to stay. Don't know why. But I do."

  
Daryl bumps his shoulder against Rick's and the motion sends waves of heat and comfort down his arm. "Want to stay. Wouldn't be here if I didn't."

  
Rick blinks his eyes open and looks over at Daryl, who's staring up at the tree's rustling leaves like they're the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. His eyes are bright and he looks years younger, sitting under the tree in his denim jacket with the white wings on the back. Rick has the sudden urge to kiss him, but he holds it back; he still doesn't know how Daryl would react, if he even feels the same way. For all he knows, Daryl will hate him if he finds out, be disgusted by his feelings and refuse to ever speak to him again. Or, even worse, he'll just let it happen without any regard for his own feelings, just doing whatever Rick wants, and Rick doesn't want to take advantage of him like that.

  
 Rick couldn't handle either of those situations, so he keeps to himself, relishing in the feeling of their shoulders brushing underneath the broad oak tree.


	22. Chapter 22

It's late in the afternoon and the hot Georgia sun has left them all sticky and covered in sweat. It's Glenn's idea to go swimming in the lake, and it's quickly seconded by over half of the group. Carl agrees with the most enthusiasm Rick has seen from him in ages, and he rips his shirt off and runs into the water in his shorts and socks without wasting a second.

  
Rick watches the group dive in, in various states of undress - the women in their underwear, men in boxers and shorts and a few in next to nothing at all. Shane strips down to his briefs and does a cannonball off of a large rock on the other side of the quarry. Dale wades in slowly and shouts at Glenn when he splashes the older man, who's flicking at his sopping wet hair with a smile on his face. Rick grins at his son, who's playing tag with Sophia in the water, and it almost feels like a camping trip with friends.

  
"Hey," Rick says to Daryl, who's sitting on the rock next to him. Lori is in her tent and the only other people not in the water are the guy with the glasses and the tall black man who greeted Daryl with a gun to his face last night. "Wanna go in?"

  
"Nah, I'm good," Daryl says, a beat too quickly.

  
"We haven't showered in, how many days?" Rick grins. "You know, I think I've lost track. C'mon, let's go."

  
He stands and takes a step in the direction of the water but stops when he realizes Daryl isn't following him. Rick turns back around to face him.

  
"What's wrong?" he asks. And then he realizes. "Oh - _oh_. You can... I dunno, you can keep your shirt on, if that's the problem."

  
Daryl looks down, kicking at a rock with the toe of his shoe. "'s okay. Nobody else is. 'm fine."

  
"No, you're not." Rick grabs his hand, squeezing it in his fingers. He pulls just a little but Daryl stays where he is. "Would it make you feel any better if I went in with my shirt on too?"

  
Daryl grunts. "Maybe. Don't like being around so many people, though."

  
"The lake is huge. We can go to a more secluded spot if you want. Just you and me. I promise."

  
Daryl taps his fingers against the back of Rick's hand. "Fine. You win."

  
Rick grins, feeling triumphant. He pulls Daryl by his hand to the other end of the quarry, where the water is a little deeper and rocks surround the lake on three sides. Rick toes off his shoes and jeans and looks back at Daryl, who's standing fully clothed removing his socks slowly. He looks hesitantly between the water and Rick.

  
"Don't say nothin'," he says, then pulls off his vest and sets it on a large rock by the water. He unbuttons his shirt and throws it on top of his vest, and Rick immediately understands why he didn't want to do this.  
The first thing Rick notices is how skinny Daryl is. He would probably be pretty fit if he put on a few pounds; he's got the barest hint of muscle on his stomach but Rick can almost count his ribs. But he's eating better now - save for the second half of his breakfast that Rick found out later he didn't eat - and he should put on a little bit of weight within the next couple of weeks. That's not what worries Rick, though it is in the back of his mind as he watches Daryl stepping slowly into the water.

  
What he notices the most, however, are the scars.

  
Daryl's back is covered in them, from his shoulder-blades to his waist, some long and thin, some broad and deep. They look like knife wounds, almost, but then Rick looks a little closer and sees a crisscross pattern and just knows, somehow, that these injuries came from a belt.

  
Shane has told him plenty of stories about child abuse, things he's seen on the job - kids with parents who beat them, some who came into the precinct with black eyes, bloody noses, bruises on their arms and legs. Shane told him that there's always a pattern to things like this, and that the abusers rarely stop before they're finally put behind bars. Rick wonders if whoever did this to Daryl was ever caught. Given the extent of Daryl's injuries - the sheer _number_ of scars littering his skin - Rick thinks that they probably weren't.

  
Daryl looks back over at Rick, who's still fiddling with the hem of his own shirt, and Rick realizes he's been staring for too long. He quickly sheds his shirt and throws it to the side, stepping into the water after Daryl.

  
The water is cold, but it feels nice in the sweltering Georgia heat. Rick ducks his head under the water and washes the sweat from his face, coming up with wet hair plastered to the sides of his head.

  
Daryl wades in until the water is up to his neck, covering his back completely, and faces Rick just in case. Rick wants to say something, maybe assure him that he isn't freaked out, that this doesn't change anything, but Daryl told him not to comment, so he won't. He knows he can pretend to Daryl's face that he never saw anything, but he also knows that the image of what he did see will haunt him. He just can't imagine someone ever doing something like that to Daryl Dixon - the sweetest man Rick has probably ever met. Nobody deserves that, least of all Daryl.

  
Daryl floats on his back, looking so satisfied and content, and Rick can't help it - he stares. He watches Daryl close his eyes against the bright sun, dip his head back into the water until his hair is covered; he watches the way he wiggles his toes, counts the tattoos on his body - he thinks he sees four, but there could be more that aren't as visible. He memorizes every curve of the brunet's body, and Daryl doesn't even notice.

  
"Hey, guys," comes a voice from beside the largest rock near the water. Rick looks up and sees Carol - he thinks that's her name, at least - dressed modestly and holding a can of something. "Um... supper's ready. Whenever you're hungry."

  
Daryl literally _jumps_ when Carol starts talking, flipping forward in the water until his head goes under and he comes up sputtering. Carol looks apologetic, and Daryl is quick to wave her off, keeping his back to the rocks.

  
Rick starts laughing at the indignant look on Daryl's face, a full-bodied laugh that makes his chest ache. After a minute Daryl joins him, chuckling softly under his breath, and Rick thinks this is the happiest he can remember either of them being since he's known Daryl. He's happy _because_ he knows Daryl. It's the middle of the goddamn apocalypse and he's so happy it hurts.

  
\---

  
Night time brings about the same problem as last night - the sleeping arrangements. Daryl offers again to sleep outside, but Rick doesn't want to leave him alone like that. He can't leave Carl in the tent by himself, and he doesn't want to ask Shane to sleep in the tent with Carl because that means having to explain why he wants to sleep outside with Daryl in the first place. In the end, they settle on trying again, inside of the tent with Daryl closest to the door just in case he needs to get out. Rick prays that they don't have a repeat of the panic attack again because he doesn't think he can handle dealing with that every morning.

  
They don't say anything, but something passes between them, and when they're both settled on the ground Rick doesn't even hesitate to put his hand on Daryl this time.

  
Daryl has his back to Rick, a small patch of skin showing where his shirt rides up, and Rick starts by putting his hand against his skin very gently. He traces a small scar that's showing, he can barely see it in the dim light from the moon through the tent's small window. It's bumpy and raised, white like it's been there for years, a thin, clean line. Rick imagines Daryl, small and defenseless, being struck in the back hard enough to cause scars this deep. He pictures him as a child, afraid of his own shadow, and it's really no wonder being in the lab freaked him out so much.

  
Rick presses further, pushing his hand up under the back of Daryl's shirt. He hears the brunet's breath hitch and he stills but doesn't protest, doesn't say anything. Rick traces every scar he comes across, long and thin, flat, raised, smooth and jagged. He runs his index fingers along them, trying to imagine the scenario that brought about each one, the painful memories that they all represent. Daryl didn't want Rick to see this part of him, but for some reason, he still let him. He let Rick in on his most painful secret, and Rick knows that has to mean something.

  
Rick makes it to his shoulders last, to the right side where he knows there are two tattoos and even more lashes. He finds a particularly long one, reaching from his shoulder to the middle of his back, mottled and concave under his fingertips. He presses down gently and Daryl gasps audibly, squirming under his blanket a bit. Rick withdraws his hand quickly, rubs a few circles into the small of his back, and feels every bump and line under his palm.

  
He runs his hand from Daryl's waist to his arms, crossed at his stomach again. This time, Daryl's hand is waiting for him, and he pulls it into his own and links their fingers together. He holds on tight and pushes his body closer to Daryl's, on his side, until his head is against the brunet's back and he can feel his steady breathing through his shirt.

  
This should feel weird, but it doesn't. It should leave him conflicted, thinking about Lori and the baby and how everything is going to change now, except that it isn't. Nothing has changed between them, and this exchange is just as comfortable as anything they've done together since they met. Rick feels like a puzzle piece, slotted against Daryl's body, and he just _fits_.

  
He has feelings for Daryl Dixon, he realizes as he dozes off to the sound of his exhales. Strong feelings, comfortable feelings, a sense of peace and warmth that he hasn't felt with Lori for years. He'll tell him tomorrow, he thinks. He'll lay everything on the line and just hope that Daryl feels the same way.

  
But what if he doesn't?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, what's gonna happen next? ;)
> 
> Also, as a bit of a side note, scars are a bit of an uncomfortable topic for me. So, sorry if this chapter seems a bit awkward. I've got some issues of my own but I'm hoping that doesn't affect the way my writing comes across. Ignore it if it does, please :)


	23. Chapter 23

Rick chickens out. More or less.

  
"Like that, yeah. 'cept no, not like that at all."

  
"C'mon, man, you're not helping!"

  
Daryl grins, taking the bow out of Rick's hands and knocking an arrow with ease.

  
"Now you're just showing off."

  
Daryl hands the bow back to Rick and motions towards a nearby tree.

  
"Try to hit that notch, there, yeah? Not too hard."

  
Rick tries, but just holding onto the bow is harder than it looks. Daryl makes it look so effortless, but in reality the thing is bulky and _heavy_ , and the string is so tight it's nearly impossible to get an arrow in without throwing his entire body against it. Rick tried to use his gun - "It's _hunting_! What's wrong with a gun? It's tradition!" - but Daryl told him to put it away, save the bullets for later. And he's right, whether Rick wants to admit it or not - they don't have a whole lot of ammo and they'll need the bullets more when they're fighting Walkers than here in the middle of the woods shooting at rabbits.

  
Daryl already has a string of squirrels around his neck but Rick hasn't even mastered the art of _holding_ the bow yet.

  
He holds it up against his shoulder and lets the arrow fly. It makes a spectacular arc and lands with a soft _thump_ in the grass a few feet away from the tree he was aiming for. Beside him, Daryl snickers, and if nothing else, Rick is making him laugh. So this isn't a total waste of time.

  
He still hasn't managed to relay his sudden revelation about his feelings to Daryl yet. He's tried, more than once, but the first time he was distracted by a squirrel - and Daryl catching the squirrel with a deft arrow to the head - and the second time he was too busy admiring the tension in Daryl's arms when he held the bow that it came out as garbled nonsense and when Daryl asked him to repeat it he was too embarrassed to do so.

  
Not so good on his part, but he's still got time. It's not even lunch time yet - he's got the whole rest of the day to make his move.

  
But what if Daryl really doesn't feel the same way? Rick thinks that maybe he does, because he's been okay with the occasional touches and hasn't been grossed out by their sleeping arrangements, but maybe Rick's misread all the signs. And if Daryl doesn't have feelings for him, then all his confession will lead to is embarrassment for both of them. Daryl will start avoiding him, and probably won't want to sleep in the same tent anymore. Everything will be ruined over something as stupid as Rick admitting to a schoolgirl crush on the brunet.

  
 "Here," Daryl says, handing the bow back to Rick. Rick hadn't even realized he'd taken it. "Try again."

  
Rick does, and this time he hits the tree at least. Not anywhere close to the notch he was aiming for, but still. Daryl gives him a thumbs-up and smiles, and Rick can feel actual _butterflies_ in his stomach. Christ, this is bad.

  
Rick manages to actually load the bow on the third try, nearly pulling a muscle in his shoulder at the same time, and he holds it up, squinting in the sun at the knot in the tree's trunk. Daryl comes up behind him and steadies the bow, his arms brushing against Rick's as he corrects his hold and aims. Rick swallows, feeling tingles in his skin at the sudden contact. He tries to focus, but Daryl is literally pressed right against his back, hands still holding tightly to the bow, and he lets the arrow fly without even paying any attention to the target. It misses by a long shot, hurtling into the woods, and Daryl drops his arms down and runs to retrieve it.

  
Rick just stands there, feeling a bizarre mixture of embarrassment, shame, and excitement. His entire body is buzzing, but he can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. That once he tells Daryl the truth, he'll lose him. It's so hard to focus on trying to hit a stupid tree trunk when his thoughts are racing a million miles a minute and his heart feels like it's going to leap out of his chest.

  
Daryl returns with the arrow and strings it back in the bow, holding it up and taking a few steps backwards. He aims, fires, and hits the notch in the tree on the first try. He's absolutely _radiating_ smugness when he looks back at Rick.

  
"Now you really _are_ showing off," Rick says, not upset at all. He would spend all day watching Daryl shoot if he could. Hell, he would spend the rest of his life watching if that meant he could keep Daryl by his side like this.

  
Daryl shrugs and hands the bow back. "Maybe a little."

  
"Daryl, I..." he pauses, trying to think of what to say. Is this really the right moment? Daryl looks happy, and they're alone, and there's nothing between them but muggy Georgia air. But the words stick in his throat. Daryl looks at him expectantly, confused, but Rick just stands there like an idiot. He can't bring himself to say it, because what if Daryl can't say it back? Would he honestly risk this friendship, the wonderful thing he has going for him, over something like that?

  
"What?" Daryl asks, taking a step towards him. He looks concerned, and Rick wonders what he's seeing. Does Rick look as conflicted as he feels? He tries to mold his face into a more agreeable expression, but it doesn't do anything to make Daryl look any less worried.

  
Something rustles in the woods and they both freeze, Rick with his hands on the bow and Daryl with one foot towards Rick. It's coming from the opposite of the way they came in, so Rick doesn't think it's one of their people. Nobody else in the group hunts, and if they came looking for Rick and Daryl they would call out for them instead of just blindly wandering in the middle of the woods.

  
It could be somebody else looking for shelter, like they were the other night. They could be dangerous. Fear sweeps into the pit of Rick's stomach and he looks over at Daryl, who's standing stock still, staring at the place where the rustling had come from.

  
Suddenly, out of the thicket of trees and bushes comes three people, a man and two women. They look normal at first glance, walking with limps but nothing else physically wrong. And then Rick notices their eyes - white, foggy, glossed over like they've been dead for days. Their clothes are torn and they're all emaciated-looking, even thinner than Daryl, with sunken cheekbones and dark bruises under their eyes. Walkers, all three of them. And they're coming right towards them.

  
Rick's first instinct is to run, but he doesn't want to risk leading them back to the camp and the others. Beside him, Daryl makes a grab for his bow, and Rick hands it to him without hesitation - he doesn't know how to use it, and with his aim he'd end up doing more harm than good. He pulls out his gun instead, clicking the safety off like Shane taught him, and holds it up like he knows what he's doing. He doesn't; he's never fired a gun in his life and the Walkers are coming at them _fast_.

  
Rick always thought the dead would be slower, held up by their limps and their rag-doll bodies, but they're quick, dragging their feet on dead leaves and stumbling over fallen branches. Daryl quickly knocks an arrow and fires, hitting the first Walker right between the eyes, the woman with dark brown hair and a filthy yellow dress. Its body falls against a tree trunk and slumps over, dead for good this time.

  
Rick doesn't have time to celebrate their victory, however, because the other two Walkers are coming fast and Daryl is still loading his bow. Rick takes aim with his gun and fires, but the bullet hits the male Walker in the chest and it keeps coming. He knows he's only got five bullets left, and not nearly enough time for target practice.

  
Daryl shoots another arrow that buries itself in the female Walker's cheek, but it doesn't even slow it down. In the time it takes for him to load another arrow the Walkers are on him, both of them snapping their jaws and clawing out with their hands and Rick feels a sudden, paralyzing fear take hold of him, rooting him in place.

  
Daryl shouts something, but Rick can't hear it over the pounding in his ears. He raises his gun and shoots again, hitting the larger of the two Walkers in the shoulder. Another shot, this time in its neck. Daryl is barely holding them off, pushing back at them and scrambling for his bow, but it isn't loaded and he doesn't have time to reload it.

  
His pulse pounding its way up his neck, Rick holds his gun out in both hands and pulls the trigger. The male Walker goes down, the bullet lodged in the back of its head, toppling over onto Daryl like a sack of flour. Daryl falls backwards, the female Walker still trying to get at him, and Rick fires his remaining shots into the monster's chest. He clicks his empty gun and watches, helpless, as the Walker goes down on Daryl with gnashing teeth and claws.

  
And then suddenly it stops, falling over into the grass, and Daryl pulls himself out from under the larger Walker, holding a large knife in his hand. He's covered in blood - on his neck, down his chest, even a few flecks in his hair - and looks winded, but alive. Rick could cheer if the fear wasn't still pulsing in his veins.

  
"Did it...?" he asks as Daryl hauls himself to his feet. Rick walks towards him, his feet suddenly working properly, and starts patting Daryl down, checking every piece of exposed flesh for bites or scratches.

  
"No," Daryl says, but he doesn't stop Rick from looking. "Came close, but no."

  
"Jesus, you scared me." Rick pulls back the collar of his shirt, checks the backs of his shoulders.

  
"Sorry."

  
Pure relief washes over Rick at the sight of Daryl's unmarked skin - not even a scratch, nothing but Walker blood and dirt. And if now isn't the perfect time, Rick doesn't know when is.

  
So Rick kisses him.

  
It's awkward and they bump noses a little at first, but Rick doesn't care; it feels so good to finally be able to do this. His lips meet Daryl's with ferocity, with the insistence of someone who was just scared out of his mind for the brunet's life. He pours all of his feelings into the motion - his worry, his fear, his absolute elation that Daryl is okay, that they're both fine and alive and together.

  
Daryl kisses back, moving his lips against Rick's like he's been waiting for this for just as long. His hands go to Rick's neck, his fingers in his hair, tangled up in his damp curls. Rick's hands are everywhere, touching every inch of Daryl's skin - his shoulders, his chest, his waist. He pulls up his shirt and wraps his fingers around the exposed skin of his stomach, feeling the ridges of scars on his back under his fingertips. Daryl shudders but doesn't stop, and this moment couldn't be more perfect even if they weren't both sweaty and covered in Walker blood.

  
Rick pulls back for a breath, looking up into Daryl's stormy blue eyes, pupils blown wide. Daryl looks content, a small smile on his face, and his fingers are still pulling tangles out of Rick's hair. Rick almost forgets where they are - in the middle of the woods surrounded by bodies, blood on their clothes and hands and faces. Rick's gun is out of bullets and Daryl's crossbow has been abandoned by the nearest tree.

  
Rick wraps his arms around Daryl's torso and pulls him closer with the intent of kissing the living daylights out of him, and it's like a spell is broken. All of a sudden the smile on Daryl's face disappears and he pulls his hands out of Rick's hair, taking a step back until Rick can no longer reach him. He sputters, mouth open wordlessly, and looks around for his bow, grabbing it when he sees it and slinging it over his shoulder.

  
"I..." he begins, searching for the right words. He looks frantic, a little wild, like he did back at the lab when he thought everyone was the enemy. "I'm sorry."

  
And just like that he disappears. He bolts in the direction they came from, running out into the woods without looking back once. Rick stays, paralyzed like he's just been slapped, and he would rather he had been. Because at least then he would know how Daryl feels, but this... What's he supposed to think?

  
Daryl kissed him back. He knows that. Daryl was enjoying it, he could tell. But some part of him clearly didn't want it, and Rick took advantage of that. He suddenly feels like the shittiest person in the world, standing there in the clearing in the middle of a graveyard with his hands still in the air like Daryl's still between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is why I don't write romance. Because I'm absolutely terrible at it. But at least we're finally getting somewhere?


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing anymore, here have an update. Roses is also being updated in a few minutes. Hooray :)

It takes Rick an absurdly long time to get back to camp. He gets lost twice, and only once he figures out he can follow Daryl's footsteps does he finally make it back.

  
Daryl isn't there when he arrives, and that worries him. He spends a few minutes looking for the brunet but he isn't eating lunch with the others or by the lake.

  
He waves down the first person he comes across, which happens to be Carol.

  
"Hey," he asks. She's handing out plates of food to the people sitting around the dying fire. "Have you seen Daryl recently?"

  
She nods, and relief floods him. "He came through a little while ago, said he was tired and went to his tent. I tried bringing him something to eat but he said he wasn't hungry."

  
She frowns, looking a little worried. Rick realizes that he's come to think of Carol as a sort of den mother to the group - even under the shadow of her obnoxious husband, Ed. She keeps everyone fed and clothed, and he hasn't even thanked her properly for washing his things and cooking his meals. He makes a note to pay her a little more attention once he's settled things with Daryl.

  
Carol hands him a plate of food - more canned fruit and vegetables, and beans in some sort of red sauce. "Maybe you can get him to eat something. Lord knows he's too thin already."

  
Rick nods and takes the plate. "Thanks. I'll do my best."

  
"He'll eat if it's for you," she says, a small smile on her face.

  
"What's that supposed to mean?"

  
She glances over at her husband, who's asleep in a lawn chair with an empty plate in his lap. "Nothing," she says.

  
He gets the feeling that there's more to it than that, but he doesn't press her. If she's seen something he hasn't, then that's not on him. Maybe she's talked to Daryl about him? She seems like the sort of woman who knows more than she lets on.

  
Rick thanks her again and heads back towards the tents. Carl is sitting with Sophia drawing on pads of paper with markers and Lori is in a chair near them watching her son like a hawk, a half-empty plate of food in her lap. Shane is keeping watch from on top of the RV - which ended up being Dale's, Rick should have figured as much - and everyone else is eating lunch. There's a string of laundry hung up between two of the largest trees, one of which happens to be the one Rick and Daryl sat under yesterday. The memory stings a bit, like it's somehow been tainted by the way things went in the woods.

  
He doesn't want to think of Daryl any differently, doesn't want to feel bitter just because the brunet didn't return his feelings. Or did, Rick still isn't sure. He might have kissed him back out of pity, or duty, or maybe even curiosity. But something went wrong, something Rick did - was it because he touched the man's back, his scars? He did that the night before and it wasn't a problem. Did he stand too close, was he too pushy? Did he move too fast and scare the brunet?

  
He never really thought about it before, but maybe it was Daryl's first kiss. Daryl told Rick that he spent most of his life traveling with Merle, never once mentioned a girlfriend or boyfriend along the way. He's never been married, he told Rick that outright, and he seems like the kind of person who's too shy to make the first move. Maybe Rick took something from him that wasn't his to take. Maybe Daryl realized that he didn't really want it after all.

  
The tent is zipped closed when Rick reaches it but the window flap is open, and Rick peers inside just to see if Daryl is there. He is, curled up on his side, and to anyone else it would look like he's sleeping. But Rick knows him better, knows he can't sleep in small spaces that easily. He watches him shift, roll onto his back, and look up just in time to make eye contact with Rick.

  
Rick ducks down but it's too late, Daryl has already seen him. Sheepish, he stands back up and goes around to the front of the tent, setting the plate of food down and unzipping the door.

  
"I'm just here to bring you some food," Rick says, watching Daryl scramble to sit up and inch away from the door. "Carol's worried you haven't eaten today. I told her I'd make sure you had some lunch, that's all I'm here for."

  
Rick pushes the plate of food inside of the tent and takes a step back.

  
"Wait," Daryl says, and Rick freezes, turning slowly back towards him. "About this morning..."

  
"It's okay," Rick says, a beat too quickly. "I get it. I was being selfish. I shouldn't have done it."

  
"No," Daryl says. "I just... Don't want nothin' to change, you know? Panicked. Shouldn't have left you out there like that."

  
Rick offers him a small smile. "I found my way back okay. So don't worry about it. This doesn't have to change anything."

  
"Promise?"

  
"I promise. Now eat up or I'll have to send Carol in here after you."

  
Daryl smiles, and it's a little reserved, a little shy, like he isn't quite sure how to behave around Rick anymore. Rick doesn't know how what happened in the woods could _not_ change anything, because now Daryl knows that Rick has feelings for him. And it's never not going to be a little bit awkward between the two of them because of that.

  
Rick watches Daryl pull the food towards him and makes sure he takes a couple of bites before he walks away. He gives Carol a thumbs-up as he walks back through the camp, and she glances at her still-sleeping husband before smiling back at him.

  
\---

  
Rick scrubs as hard as he can, but it still takes him a good half hour to get the blood out of his shirt.

  
He wades into the lake with his clothes still on and rubs at the Walker blood on his collar, trying not to think about how every place there's blood is a place Daryl touched him just a few hours ago. He's even got it in his hair, curls sticking together against the back of his head. He ducks his head under the water and scrubs at his hair, wishing he had thought ahead enough to bring some shampoo in his suitcase.

  
He runs his fingernails over the stained fabric, scraping at the dried blood and dirt stuck to the cotton. He manages to get most of it, but there's still a slight red tinge to his shirt. His jeans come clean completely, but he notices a small rip in the knee on one side that wasn't there this morning.

  
He thinks about Daryl - Daryl's mouth, Daryl's hands, the way he'd smiled so breathlessly when they'd parted. Before he left Rick there in the middle of the woods. It had been so perfect, and it turned into a nightmare so quickly.

  
He hears a splash and the sound of someone else wading into the water behind him. He turns - Lori. She's wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top that emphasizes the slight bulge to her belly - she's probably only a couple of months pregnant, but she's so small that any weight she puts on shows on her frame easily. She comes up behind him and puts her arms around his stomach, resting her chin on his shoulder.

  
"Missed you," she says into his ear. "Did you catch anything while you were out there?"

  
He scrubs at the hem of his shirt, distracted by thoughts of how the same position with Daryl in Lori's place would feel.

  
"A few squirrels. Daryl, not me. I couldn't even manage shooting his bow at a _tree_. Did waste a round of bullets though."

  
She lifts her head from his shoulder a fraction of an inch. "On squirrels?"

  
"Walkers," he says, shivering despite the heat. "Three. Got one of them, at least."

  
"Walkers? This far away from the city?"

  
He nods, fingers working tirelessly at a patch of murky dried blood on the bottom of his shirt. "Only just the three, though. I doubt they're part of a larger group. I wouldn't worry about it."

  
He's worried about it plenty. If three Walkers could make it that close to camp, more could easily find their way here. And most of the people here are unarmed - Dale has a shotgun, Andrea and the man who tried to shoot Daryl when they arrived both have guns, and Shane and Rick have theirs, Rick's without bullets now. Daryl has his crossbow, but in a fight with a large group of them, it won't mean much; it takes him a while to reload it and take aim, and it was already a close call with just three of them in the woods.

  
Lori sighs, her breath ghosting across his neck. "Is everything okay? You seem... distant, lately. Is it because of Shane?"

  
She says his name like a curse word, like he's something secret she shouldn't be talking to him about. Like he doesn't already know about the affair and the baby and the lies. But that's not what's bothering him.   
She can't know about Daryl, that much he's certain of. If she found out that he cheated on her, too, and with a man no less, she'd freak out. The rest of the camp would find out, and they'd have to leave. Worst of all, she might take Carl away from him, and the baby, which isn't even his to have but he feels _responsible_ for it somehow.

  
"I'm fine," he says instead. "You and Shane... Is that still going on?"

  
She freezes against him and her hands tighten their grip across his stomach. He knows she doesn't want to talk about this, but they're both adults, and they need to have this conversation. Especially the way Rick wants it had. Because he knows with more certainty now that he wants to be with Daryl, and that can't happen if he's still with Lori. Even if Daryl doesn't want him back.

  
"No," she whispers in his ear. "Not since you found out. I swear to you."

  
"It would be okay," he blurts out before he can stop himself. "I wouldn't fault you for it. If you love him, you should be with him. Right?"

  
He realizes a moment too late that he isn't talking about Shane.

  
"You say that like you know something I don't." She moves her hands up to his shoulders and takes a step back. The blood is gone from his shirt now, but he can't stop his hands from scrubbing.

  
"I just know that you and me... It's not going to work. And you deserve to be happy. If he makes you happy, then that's it, isn't it?"

  
The water sloshes around them, cold on Rick's legs. Daryl makes him happy, doesn't he? He wishes it was that simple.

  
"It's not that easy, Rick," she says. "You make me happy too. It's just not the same. And we can't exactly go to a divorce lawyer right now, can we?"

  
"No," he agrees. "But it's as good as done. And I forgive you; you need to know that. For whatever happens next, too."

  
He wants to tell her about Daryl; he desperately wants her to know. He still loves her, but it's not the right kind of love anymore. And he's not sure what his feelings for Daryl are, how far they reach, but he knows what he wants - he wants a future with Daryl by his side. He wants Daryl, all of him, even the parts that are scarred. Even if Daryl doesn't want him the same way.

  
And he wants her to forgive him, too. Because he's still married and he kissed Daryl anyway. And he would do it again in a heartbeat if he could; part of him is still hoping he might get to someday. He wants to ask her to forgive him for it, but he can't find the words to tell her. So he doesn't.

  
She doesn't respond; he didn't expect her to. She lets go of his shoulders and he can hear the water moving as she walks away. He stays behind and rubs at the spots on his shirt, hoping that a little extra scrubbing will clean them. It doesn't.


	25. Chapter 25

Going to bed that night is awkward, to say the least.

  
Rick meets Daryl by the tent after supper, Carl already inside fast asleep. They both make a grab for the zipper at the same time and their hands touch, and Daryl pulls his back fast like he's been burned. Rick feels a throb of shame in his chest - he caused this; if he had just kept his hands and his mouth to himself, they'd still be fine.

  
Rick decides to enter the tent first. He figures that once he gets settled, Daryl can choose where to sleep and set his own boundaries. Rick picks a spot closer to Carl than usual, more towards the middle of the tent, and leaves enough space on the other side for Daryl to spread out comfortably and not even touch him.

  
Daryl pads into the tent with bare feet and zips the door closed behind him. He looks around and something passes over his face, but it's gone before Rick can guess what it is. He lays down on his side facing the tent, pulling his blanket up over himself even though it's still muggy out.

  
A few minutes pass. Rick tries to sleep, but his mind is racing. Daryl is _right there_ , so close he could roll over and put his arms around him if he wanted to, but that's not what Daryl wants. Rick tries to swallow down his feelings, tries to think about something, _anything_ else, but nothing works. Daryl is still there, at the front of his mind, kissing him, touching him, just being in his presence without it being so horrifically awkward. Part of Rick wishes he had never kissed him, because then they'd still be sleeping pressed so close together he could smell the lake water on Daryl's skin and it would be okay. Now all he feels is guilt when he looks at the brunet, and it hurts.

  
He figures it's probably been half an hour, maybe a little longer, when Daryl rolls over to face him and he freezes like a deer caught in the headlights.

  
"Hey," Daryl grunts out, his eyes half open. "Can't sleep?"

  
"No," Rick says. "You?"

  
"Can't stop thinkin'." Daryl shifts a little and props his chin up in his hand. "'bout this morning."

  
Rick's heart starts racing. _Here it comes_ , he thinks. Daryl's about to 'let him down gently,' and it's probably going to hurt like hell.

  
"I'm sorry," he starts before Daryl can say anything else. "It was out of line and I shouldn't have-"

  
"No. 's not it." Daryl blinks up at him, and it's only then that Rick realizes just how close they are. Daryl must have moved closer when he shifted, because now he's less than an arm's length away. "I freaked out. Shouldn't have. Had no reason to."

  
"It was wrong of me to assume you wanted that, Daryl."

  
"Never said I didn't," Daryl says. "Just surprised me. And I've never..."

  
Ah. So Rick was right, it was his first kiss. That makes Rick feel even shittier about it, because not only did he assume what Daryl wanted and push him against his will, but he also took away something important. Something Daryl will never get back.

  
"Shit," he whispers. "I didn't... I didn't know."

  
Daryl shrugs, his entire upper body moving with the motion. "'s not a problem. Just needed to sort things out, is all."

  
"Have you? Sorted things out?"

  
Daryl shifts a little closer and puts his free hand in the space between them. Rick wants so badly to reach out and touch him, take his hand in his own, but he doesn't know what Daryl wants yet.

  
"Yeah," he says after a moment, his voice husky. "Don't mind. Kinda nice."

  
Rick's heart feels like it's going to beat right out of his chest. "Yeah? You sure about that?"

  
Daryl nods, moving closer, and that's all it takes.

  
Rick closes the gap between them eagerly, pressing his mouth against Daryl's almost greedily. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, eliciting a gasp from the brunet, and sucks gently. He puts his arms around his waist, pulling him closer, until their torsos are touching and the only thing separating them is Daryl's blanket.

  
He runs his hands down Daryl's sides, feeling him shudder underneath his fingers. Daryl's hands are in his hair again, tugging at his curls, and Rick can't help the noises that come out of his throat. He feels so hungry for this, so touch-starved, that he can't stop his wandering hands from touching every inch of Daryl he can reach. He's not even sure when the last time he made out with someone was - it had to have been Lori, but he hasn't even touched her in ages, it feels like years since the last time they made out like their lives depended on it.

  
Daryl is melting like a puddle under his hands, wriggling and writhing at all the right moments, and they're only kissing. Rick's knee finds itself between Daryl's legs, and the brunet is already getting hard, but Rick knows better than to do anything about it. He wants to, of course he does, but Daryl freaked out just kissing him the first time - he's definitely not ready for anything more than that. Just for now, though; Rick would love to see Daryl fall to pieces under his touch, but he'll have to be patient.

  
They pull apart for breath, Daryl gasping and leaning into Rick the moment he pulls away, and Rick looks at Daryl - his pupils blown wide, hair mussed, lips swollen and bright red. He looks so utterly fucked, just from kissing, and Rick can't help but be aroused by the sight of him. He looks beautiful, and so, so different from the man he first met in the lab weeks ago.

  
"What're you thinkin' about?" Daryl asks, his voice low and raw.

  
"You," Rick answers honestly. "You've come so far since I met you. Back then you wouldn't even let me near you, remember that?"

  
"Yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

  
"No," Rick says. "It's a good thing. I'm glad I've had that affect on you."

  
Daryl smiles, looking up at Rick through his bangs. "Thanks," he says, the word full of emotion. Rick nods, rubbing circles into the skin of his back, feeling bumpy scars under his fingers.

  
He remembers the Daryl he met at the lab - the scared, quiet man who hated being touched. He was afraid of everything, he was all alone, thinking he was going to spend the rest of his life in a cell. He'd just lost his brother, his only family, and he wouldn't let anyone near him, not even Rick. And now here he is, safe, out of the lab at last, letting Rick kiss him and touch him and just lay here with his arm around him. Rick is proud of him, of how far he's come.

  
Rick kisses him one more time, long and slow, and then Daryl shifts back onto his other side facing the wall of the tent, letting Rick settle behind him with his arm still slung around his waist. He links their hands together, sighing contentedly, and presses a kiss to Rick's palm.

  
They were just attacked by Walkers this morning, and barely made it out alive. They're camped out in the middle of nowhere, and there's no city for them to go back to even if they wanted to. Rick's marriage is falling apart and his wife cheated on him with his best friend. And here, in a tent in the woods with Daryl Dixon, Rick doesn't think his life could get any better.

  
\---

  
Someone shakes Rick awake early the next morning. He looks up, eyes bleary, to see Daryl sitting at his side looking down at him. He smiles, mirroring Daryl's expression, and leans up to pull him down for a kiss.

  
"Good morning," he says, pushing himself up onto his knees.

  
"'Morning," Daryl says, reaching out to brush his hand against Rick's. Just the simple motion, the daring in it, makes Rick's heart pick up pace.

  
A thought occurs to him. "Did Carl...?"

  
"Nah. Was up before him. Always am, so no problem."

  
Rick sighs, relieved. The last thing he needs right now is for Carl to find out about him and Daryl and tell Lori. But as long as Daryl manages to separate them before Carl wakes up and sees, it's okay. He's glad Daryl thought ahead, because he most certainly wasn't thinking about Carl last night.

  
Daryl changes in front of Rick for the first time, shedding his pajamas and pulling on his jeans and button-up quickly. His back is to Rick, and Rick can see every scar, every piece of his history laid out on his bare skin. It still makes him angry, that someone could have done something that awful to Daryl, of all people. He also feels a swell of sadness looking at the scars, because he knows how much they still affect Daryl. And he knows how brave Daryl has to be just to let him see them.

  
"Hey, Daryl?" Rick asks as he pulls on his jeans, not the least bit ashamed to be changing clothes in front of the brunet.

  
Daryl hums, keeping his eyes averted for Rick's privacy.

  
Rick fastens the button on his jeans and pulls up the zipper. "You don't mind, do you? Not telling the others just yet?"

  
Daryl doesn't say anything for a long moment, long enough for Rick to have finished getting dressed and tidying his sleeping area.

  
"Nah," he finally says. "Nothin' much to tell. I get it, though. You've still got a wife, and a kid. Gotta think about them first."

  
"I think about you, too, you know," Rick says, feeling a sting at the noncommittal way Daryl dismissed himself. "I just want to make sure Lori's moved on first, you know? And Carl might not understand just yet. Being married has nothing to do with it."

  
"Doesn't matter. Still are."

  
"You matter, Daryl," Rick says, standing up beside Daryl and putting his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Don't you ever think you're not important to me."

  
He presses their lips together in a quick, chaste kiss. Daryl leans in, hands roving as he tries to find a place to put them, and he settles on Rick's hips. They slot together so comfortably, all Rick wants to do is climb back into bed and kiss him slowly the rest of the day, but he knows they've got work to do. It'd be a little suspicious, even to Lori, if they spent the whole day together in the tent, anyway.

  
"C'mon." Rick breaks off the kiss and takes a step back; Daryl reluctantly releases him and follows him to the tent door. "Let's go get some breakfast. Got a feeling it's gonna be a good day."

  
Carol greets them at breakfast, beaming when she sees Daryl eating his food without complaint. Oatmeal and peanut butter toast, courtesy of the RV's decade-old toaster. It tastes like a five-star restaurant meal after the canned fruits and vegetables they've been having; even the squirrels last night weren't all that filling.

  
They're set to go hunting again this afternoon, just Rick and Daryl - well, just Daryl, but Rick somehow managed to convince the makeshift council that it's better to hunt in small groups just in case anything goes wrong. And he's right, of course; after the Walker attack, he's not letting Daryl out of his sight for a minute.

  
In the meantime, they go swimming in their secluded little spot, far away from the rest of the group. Daryl strips of his clothes easily, not even bothering to hide his back around Rick anymore, and Rick feels a swell of pride for the brunet. Rick joins him a minute later, in nothing but his boxers, and has Daryl pinned up against a rock before he even realizes Rick is behind him.

  
Rick is on him like a hungry animal, kissing his mouth, his jawline, down his neck, everywhere he can reach. He wants to hold Daryl's arms back and kiss him like the world's ending - because it kind of is - but he doesn't want Daryl to feel trapped. So instead he lets him rest his arms around his neck, hands carding through his hair, and holds him by his hips against the rock. Their knees press together, torsos slotted like puzzle pieces. Rick runs his tongue down Daryl's neck and revels in the sounds he draws from the brunet.

  
They kiss slowly, languidly, behind the rock and underneath the sweltering Georgia sun. Sweat beads on Rick's forehead and in his hair; he dips down under the water, pulling Daryl with him, and comes up quickly with his lips on his. For someone who's never done this before, Daryl is a natural at making Rick feel even hotter in the blistering heat.

  
They don't notice, too focused on each other, that someone on the other side of the camp is watching them closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. Things get steamier from here on out, and it's truthfully my first time writing anything even close to sex. So. I'm probably going to be uploading chapters really quickly over the next couple of days just to get it over with. Like ripping off a bandage. And it's going to be cringy. I cringe just re-reading it. You've been warned.


	26. Chapter 26

Rick goes to take a piss - in the middle of the woods, how discrete - and when he gets back is when he first notices Daryl acting strangely.

  
For one thing, Daryl won't sit next to him at supper, choosing a spot by Glenn on the other side of the campfire instead. Rick thinks it's odd - usually Daryl is hanging off of him like a lost puppy, following him around wherever he goes, and he's gotten used to having the brunet at his side after all this time. But he doesn't think twice about it; maybe Daryl is finally making friends, squeezed between Glenn and Carol. He looks slightly uncomfortable, but after being addressed a few times, he actually joins in on the conversations around him and looks much more at ease.

  
Rick pokes around at his meal - more canned food, of course - and tries to talk to the people around him. Lori and Carl are on his right, and Dale is on his left; he's not sure what to say to Dale, so he starts up a conversation about the RV, knowing it's the older man's favorite topic, and everything goes smoothly from there. They chat about what kind of car Rick drives, and when Dale suggests they go back for it and scrap it for parts, Rick even pretends to look appropriately scandalized. Even though he knows very little about vehicles himself and honestly couldn't care less if he never saw his old blue SUV again.

  
During a lull in the conversation, Lori prods him in the shoulder, getting his attention. He turns towards her; Carl isn't with her anymore, off playing with Sophia again. He swears if the two of them aren't each other's first crushes he'd be disappointed.

  
"Everything okay?" she asks, running her food around on her plate with her fork.

  
He nods, confused. "Why wouldn't it be?"

  
She points her fork in Daryl's direction. "He's over there, not hanging all over you for once. Did you two have a fight?"

  
"No. Maybe he's just trying to make friends."

  
Lori gives him a skeptical look, pushing her cold green beans across the plate. "Yeah, maybe."

  
"What about you and Shane?" Rick asks, changing the subject.

 

"There is no me _and_ Shane." She shrugs. "He's fine. A little pushier than usual, but I think everything's okay."

  
"Pushier? What do you mean?" Rick pauses, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "He didn't _try_ anything, did he?"

  
Lori shakes her head quickly. "No. But I know he wants to."

  
"And you don't."

  
"I don't know. Not right now." She flashes him her wedding ring, still on her finger like nothing's changed. "We're still _married_ , Rick. You haven't forgotten that, have you?"

  
Rick thinks about Daryl, about all the things he's done to him and all the things he still wants to do. He looks down at his own golden band, contrasting starkly against his lightly tanned skin, glittering in the sunlight. Is he doing something wrong? By being with Daryl? By _wanting_ to be with Daryl? Their marriage is as good as over, they've both acknowledged that. He doesn't understand why she won't just move on, maybe start things up with Shane again, anything to give Rick the push he needs to be with Daryl in the way he wants. Because right now it feels kind of _wrong_ , and he hates that anything about Daryl can feel wrong.

  
"We are," he says. "But only in writing. Lori, you've said as much yourself. You know it's over."

  
"It wouldn't feel right."

  
"But it did when you were with him before?"

  
He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but it's too late. She stands up without another word, setting her half-eaten plate of food on her chair and stalking away back to her tent. Andrea sees her leave and follows her, and since when did they become such good friends? Rick hasn't even noticed them hanging out, but he hasn't really been paying her all that much attention lately.

  
He knows he should feel bad, but what he said was true, whether it hurt her feelings or not. And he should feel guilty about wanting to be with Daryl when he's still wearing his wedding ring, but their marriage was over the minute she told him she was pregnant with someone else's child, and if she can't see that, then that's her problem, not his. Right?

  
He looks over at Daryl, hoping for some kind of sign that everything is okay, that what they're doing is okay, but Daryl avoids his eyes. He glosses right over him looking across the campsite and turns his attention back to something Carol is saying, laughing at just the right moment to drop Rick's heart into his shoes.

  
Rick corners him after supper on his way to the tents, back by the cars, between a large black pickup and the RV. Everyone else is still sitting around the campfire, even Carl, but Lori is in her tent and Daryl snuck away the second Rick's back was turned.

  
Rick grabs his hand when they're out of sight of the others, holding it gently in his own. Daryl makes a move to pull away but Rick tightens his grip just enough to let him know he's serious. Daryl stops fighting and backs into the pickup, ducking his head and looking up at Rick through the long hair in his face.

  
Rick makes a move to kiss him but Daryl turns his head away. If the rest of his behavior today was odd, this is just baffling. He was fine this morning, smiling at Rick and kissing him slowly, waking him up and holding his hand. Rick had thought he was enjoying himself in the water, his hands exploring Rick's body, his mouth moving in all the right ways. He _had_ to have wanted it; they talked about it earlier, and Rick thought they came to the same conclusion. But maybe he was reading the signs all wrong again.

  
"Daryl?" he breathes, letting go of his hand. Daryl looks ready to bolt, but Rick stands in front of him, blocking his exit. "What's going on?"

  
"Nothin'," he says, too quickly. His eyes are everywhere, just like they were back at the lab. Searching for a way out. Rick realizes belatedly that he's got Daryl trapped against the car and he takes a step back to give him some more room. "Just can't, okay? Not right now."

  
"Is it something I did?"

  
Daryl shakes his head slowly but doesn't say anything.

  
"Then what is it?"

  
"Just..." Daryl pauses, collecting his thoughts. He looks confused in the low lighting, like he's trying to figure out what he's even thinking before he comes up with something to tell Rick. "You're married. It ain't right."

  
Rick knows he's lying, or at least not telling the whole truth. His entire body language conveys discomfort, and Rick feels ashamed that he's the cause.

  
"I thought we talked about this? Lori and I, we aren't..."

  
"You are." Daryl puts his palms flat against the side of the truck, looking ready to run if he needs to. He doesn't look scared, which is good, but he's definitely defensive, more like he was around everyone but Rick at the lab - like if they came too close, he was ready to fight them off.

  
"We _aren't_ ," Rick insists, putting his hand with the wedding ring on it behind his back. "Daryl, I want _you_ , not her. You have to understand that. I want you."

  
"I want..." he trails off, starting over again with a slightly different tone. "I can't. 'm sorry." He looks back towards the tents, inching to the side in their direction. "I'll sleep outside. Better that way."

  
"For who?" Rick asks, but Daryl doesn't respond. He just edges past Rick and into the tent, gathering up his blankets and bag and laying them out on the ground.

  
\---

  
They make a supply run to Atlanta a couple of days later, and things aren't any better by then. They're nearly out of food, and Glenn suggests that the edge of the city might not have been destroyed, might have a grocery store or a gas station they can loot. Rick hates the idea of stealing, but they need to eat, and it's not like he can pay someone for the goods they take.

  
Daryl almost doesn't offer to come with. He hangs back from the rest of the group and only agrees when Glenn volunteers him, saying he's the best shot in the camp and they'll need him if things go south. Glenn is fast, and Rick is smart, Shane is a good shot, and the large black man with the facial hair - who calls himself 'Big Tiny,' and nobody else knows his real name - is, well, _big_. Their team is formed quickly and with no complaints; Rick can tell Daryl doesn't want to go with him, but he can't say no without looking suspicious.

  
Daryl has been avoiding Rick for two and a half days now. At first it was annoying, the little things Daryl would do to stay away - bathing with clothes on amongst the rest of the group instead of in their usual spot, eating with Glenn and Carol, hunting alone at night so Rick wouldn't follow - but now it's more worrying than anything else.

  
And sure, maybe Daryl came to his senses and realized he didn't want to be with Rick after all. Rick would have been okay - well, he would have been okay _eventually_ \- if that had been the case. But Daryl wouldn't have avoided him completely, even then. Rick hears him in the middle of the night, shifting around uncomfortably on the cold, hard ground. Carol even helped him through a morning panic attack, something _Rick_ should have been able to do. He didn't know Daryl had nightmares, because he's never been away from him while he slept, but Rick can _hear_ them now through the tent and he hasn't slept more than a couple hours in the last two days.

  
They leave for Atlanta in the morning, taking a couple of guns and Daryl's crossbow and leaving Andrea and Dale in charge of the rest of the camp's weapons. They make it into the city in the middle of the afternoon, driving in a long beige sedan that belonged to Andrea's father. There's no traffic, at least, but they have to take a longer route because the highway is still so jammed with vehicles. Rick spots his own car on the edge of the overpass and he's tempted to go back for it, but he decides that he has plenty of time. He can always make a trip back for it later, when they aren't on a mission for supplies.

  
The city is worse off than Rick expected. The largest, tallest buildings are all crumbled into dust, rubble littering the streets, and there are Walkers _everywhere_. It's only because Glenn knows the city so well that they're able to navigate the shorter, less used streets with fewer of the dead walking them. They bring an axe and two baseball bats in addition to the guns and ammo, and clear the streets relatively easily. Daryl is fast on his feet, and Rick finds himself watching the brunet when he isn't looking.

  
They find a small convenience store on the edge of the city. They break into groups to search it, and somehow Rick ends up with Shane. He's tempted to ask to switch partners, to go with Daryl instead, but he doesn't want to raise any eyebrows. Besides, he hasn't spoken to Shane in what feels like days; this will give them a good opportunity to catch up.

  
"Hey, brother," Shane says as they walk down the canned foods aisle. They stuff their bags as they go, taking only what they can carry.

  
"Hey," Rick responds, gathering a few cans of fruit and dropping them into his pack. "How are things? Feel like I haven't talked to you in a while. Sorry about that."

  
"It's alright, man. You've been busy; we all have been."

  
Rick nods, watching Daryl out of the corner of his eye; he's in the next aisle over, picking through boxes of pasta. "Lori still not talking to you?"

  
Shane shrugs. "Nah, but it's alright. She'll come around. Always does."

  
"Yeah. You know I'm not mad, right?" He gets to the canned vegetables and ponders over which the group will like the most. "I was. But if you and her... It's okay. Just so you know."

  
"I appreciate it, man." Shane switches to the other side of the aisle - canned beans. "How about you? Dixon still hanging on you like a wood tick?"

 

"What?" Rick asks, distracted. He processes Shane's words and a surge of irritation buzzes in his chest. "He doesn't _hang_ on me. He's just nervous around new people."

  
"Didn't seem so nervous this morning. But that's none of my business."

  
"No," Rick agrees. "It's not."

  
"I just figured," Shane continues, like he didn't hear Rick speak, "you'd be glad to have some space. He ain't good for you, man."

  
"I think I can decide who's good for me and who's not, brother." Rick stops filling his pack, turning around to face Shane. "Wait. Do you know something about this? Why he's not talking to me?"

  
Shane rubs his hand through his hair. "Didn't tell him nothing he didn't already know," he says, slightly defensive.

  
"You _talked_ to him?"

  
"Yeah. Didn't think you'd mind."

  
Rick sets his bag down on the ground, starting to get a little angry. " _What_ exactly did you tell him?"

  
"That," Shane says, "is none of _your_ business."

  
Rick makes a move to walk away, but Shane grabs hold of his wrist tightly.

  
"Let go, _brother_ ," Rick warns under his breath, putting as much spite into the last word as he can. Shane looks at him for a long moment before releasing his wrist, taking a step back like he's just been slapped.

  
Rick breaks rank, leaving the canned goods aisle and walking straight into the pasta section, where Glenn, Daryl, and 'Big Tiny' are packing what they can fit into their bags. Daryl has his crossbow slung over one shoulder and a backpack over the other, and he's examining the contents of a package of macaroni with more focus than is necessary.

  
Rick takes one last look back at Shane, walks up to Daryl and, in front of the entire group, kisses him hard on the mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. A few things you should know: I dislike Shane, but he's not a monster. I've just made him out to be a sort of villain in this story because it's easier. But I will never like Lori and I'm pretty sure no one could change my mind about that. 
> 
> And. I've included Big Tiny in a small role because I like him. Just because. And I don't think it's much of a spoiler if I say we're not gonna make it to the prison before the end of this story anyway. 
> 
> (Also I hate the last few chapters of this story. So much I considered not posting it at all because of them. But I will for you guys. Just don't hate me for it.)


	27. Chapter 27

Daryl pushes him away quickly, his hands going up defensively. Rick stares at him, open-mouthed, but the trepidation in his eyes keeps him silent.

  
"Rick!" Shane shouts from behind him, jogging to catch up and stopping just a few feet away. "What the _hell_?"

  
"What's your _problem_ , Shane?" Rick fumes, seeing Daryl's fearful expression and reluctantly taking a step back. "You can be with Lori now; isn't that what you wanted?"

  
Shane looks livid, holding his hands in fists at his sides. "This pansy ain't no good for you, brother. He's _changing_ you. This ain't you, Rick, it ain't and you know it."

  
"What would you know about what's good for me?" Rick shouts back, feeling his own anger building. "Daryl makes me _happy_. You had no right to try and take that from me."

  
"He's a _fag_ , Rick, and you ain't. You know I'm right."

  
Rick's heartbeat starts pounding in his ears the moment Shane says the word fag, and he can't hear the rest. His vision goes cloudy and he turns, staring at Shane with his eyes narrowed and hands clenched into tight fists. Shane mirrors his stance, holding his hands up in front of his chest.

  
"Stand down, brother," Shane says, taking a cautious step backwards.

  
Rick follows him until he's go Shane backed against a row of boxed pasta, with nowhere else to go. "You don't know the first thing about Daryl. Or me. You had _no right_."

  
It's Rick who takes the first swing, launching his fist at Shane's face before the other man can react. He hits him square in the jaw, throwing his head backwards into the shelf behind him. Rick stares down at his white knuckles and a sense of regret fills him, but he doesn't have time to stew in it before Shane is back up, throwing his own fists at Rick, punching him everywhere he can reach.

  
Shane knocks Rick backwards with a blow to his cheek and Rick trips over a fallen can of beans and falls right on his ass. He rolls to avoid a kick to the side and is back up in time to throw his arms up against hits to both his face and his chest. Shane punches him in the stomach and he doubles over, head down, trying to catch his breath. He feels winded and sore, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, but he gets back up anyway and swings his fists wildly. One connects with Shane's shoulder but doesn't do much other than piss him off.

  
Shane is a cop and Rick is a scientist; the odds are already stacked against him. Shane is bigger and stronger than he is, and he's used to using his fists and hands to apprehend a suspect - Rick is no different than the thugs Shane has brought down on the job. In comparison, Rick is scrawny, with next to no muscle and no idea what he's doing. The fight is over before it's even really begun.

  
Shane drops a kick to Rick's knee, sending him down to the ground, and another against his side while he fights to get back up. Shane is just aiming another punch and Rick's head when he stops, and Rick, staring at the floor and waiting for it to happen, looks up after a couple of seconds of silence. Shane is still standing there, fist held out in front of himself, but he's being pinned back by three different people - Big Tiny has him by the shoulders behind him, Glenn is holding his arm in both of his own, and Daryl is right in front of Shane, shielding Rick from whatever happens next.

  
Shane struggles, squirming under the hands holding him in place, but Big Tiny is huge next to him and Glenn is stronger than he looks.

  
"See sense, brother," Shane says to Rick, anger slowly dissipating from his expression. "Don't let him ruin you."

  
"I'm more worried I'm going to ruin him, actually," Rick wheezes out, still trying to catch his breath on the ground. He looks up at Daryl, who catches his eye and stares back, face unreadable. "But you can't change what happens from here on out, Shane. I don't love Lori anymore. Haven't for a long time."

  
Daryl drops his eyes, looking deep in thought. His hair falls into his face and all Rick wants to do is reach up and tuck it back behind his ear, but he's afraid that if he moves he's going to pass out or throw up, so he stays as still as he can.

  
An understanding passes over Shane's face, like he's just waking up from a dream, and Glenn and Big Tiny cautiously release his arms. Shane throws them down to his sides and unclenches his fists, flexing his fingers against his jeans. Daryl doesn't move, still crouched over Rick protectively, like he expects to take the blows that are meant for Rick if any more come. Rick knows Daryl isn't strong enough for that - he's even skinnier and weaker than Rick is, even with the little muscle he has in his arms from using his crossbow. He wouldn't last more than a few minutes in a fight against Shane.

  
"Okay," Shane says finally, holding his hand out around Daryl, under Rick's chin.

  
"Okay?"

  
"Yeah." Shane shrugs, using his free hand to wipe at the bruise forming on his jaw. "Didn't mean to hurt you, man. Never thought I'd let myself get carried away like that. I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

  
Rick takes his hand and lets Shane haul him to his feet. Dizziness and nausea wash over him and he reaches out to grab onto the first thing he sees, which happens to be Daryl's arm.

  
"And Daryl? You owe him an apology more than me."

  
"Rick," Daryl says, low under his breath. "'s okay. Just leave it be."

  
"No. The stuff he said about you... It's not true. And he knows that, don't you, _brother_?"

  
A moment passes between them all, with Rick still clinging to Daryl, fingers digging into his bicep hard enough to bruise, and Shane looking down at Rick like he just asked him to make out with Daryl himself. Finally, after a long silence, Shane sighs and nods, almost imperceptibly.

  
"Don't mean I have to like it, though."

  
"Don't mean I have to like you and Lori," Rick counters, voice still slightly raspy. "But I'd put up with it, brother, if I knew it'd make you happy."

  
Shane nods again and stalks off, grabbing his bag from off the ground and disappearing into another aisle to continue looting. Glenn and Big Tiny follow him silently, Glenn glancing back at Rick and Daryl for a long moment before turning the corner into the next section of food.

  
Silence follows, the only sounds are Rick's heavy breathing and the clattering of canned goods from the next aisle over. Rick tries to let go of Daryl but the leg Shane kicked won't support his weight; his ribs feel like they're on fire and his stomach is churning uncomfortably. Daryl keeps a strong hold on him, even though Rick can see in his face that it's hard.

  
"I'm just gonna... sit for a couple minutes," Rick says, breaking the silence; his voice sounds rough and ragged in his own ears and awkward in the otherwise quiet room. "You can put me down, it's okay."

  
Daryl nods and slowly eases him down against the shelf, holding his head until he's sitting up comfortably and lets go of Daryl's arm.

  
Daryl sits down next to him, leaning his head back on the shelf, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Rick has seen this stance in him before, back at the lab - closed off, defensive, guarded. Rick doesn't like it any more now than he did back then.

  
Their legs touch, just barely, and it's enough to unknot some of the tense muscles in Rick's body, to calm down his racing heart.

  
"I'm sorry," Rick starts, feeling like he's apologizing more lately than he ever has before.

  
"What for?"

  
Rick sighs, taking in several deep breaths that ache in his chest. "I don't know. For kissing you? For making you feel like you had to kiss me back? For doing it in front of everyone, making you defend me like that because I'm too fucking _weak_ to protect myself?"

  
Daryl shakes his head, hair falling into his face. He really needs a haircut, or at least a decent shower; his hair is starting to get knotted towards the back of his head and having it fall over his eyes all the time can't be comfortable. Rick's arms are too sore to reach up and brush it back, but a moment later Daryl tucks a few strands behind his ear and shakes the rest out of his face.

  
"Not weak. Didn't have to defend me, either." Daryl sits up a little straighter so he's a full head taller than Rick's crouched-over form. "Don't do nothin' I don't want to."

  
Rick looks up at him, the ache in his chest deepening the more he moves. He feels like he's going to throw up, but he's not sure if it's nerves or physical pain. Probably both.

  
Since when is he nervous around Daryl? He never was before, even at the lab when he barely knew him and expected him to lash out at any moment; even then he trusted the brunet, knew he wouldn't hurt him, not on purpose. Now it feels like he might, like what he says next might hurt, and Rick is already too sore to deal with any more pain.

  
"Then I took advantage of you," Rick begins, staring straight ahead to avoid Daryl's eyes. "I'm sorry. I honestly didn't mean to-"

  
Daryl cuts him off by leaning over quickly and catching his lips with his own, drawing Rick's head up as their mouths connect and pulling him forward away from the shelf. Rick's back is burning and his sore leg feels like it's going to break from the pressure on it, but he follows Daryl anyway, leaning into his touch.

  
Daryl breaks their kiss for just a moment as he crawls over to Rick, slotting himself between Rick's legs and pressing his entire torso against Rick's chest. He pus his hands on the sides of Rick's face and pulls his head up again, pushing their lips back together. His tongue licks at Rick's bottom lip and he opens his mouth, and what comes next is pure _bliss_.

  
Rick's mind is swimming and he's confused, but his body is tingling in all the places Daryl is touching him and it's hard to think about anything else. Daryl's hands run down his chest, to his waist and back up again; Rick keeps his hands on the brunet's hips, holding him in place so he can't pull back. Rick's entire body feels like it's on fire, he's in so much pain, but he doesn't dare move. He doesn't want Daryl to think he doesn't want this, because he does. More than anything.

  
"What," Rick gasps out between kisses, while Daryl's lips are on his jaw, "changed your mind?"

  
"Nothin," Daryl says, pulling back just enough to look Rick in the eyes. "That bastard told me you was still in love with your wife. Said it wasn't right to take you away from your family. I believed him."

  
Rick reaches up to peck a kiss to the corner of Daryl's lips. "It's not true. You know it's not."

  
Daryl nods slowly. "Yeah. Figured that out." He runs one hand through Rick's hair and keeps the other on his neck. "Ain't your wife gonna find out now, though? Gonna be mad. Your kid too."

  
"If they find out, they find out," Rick says shortly, trying to picture Lori's reaction to whatever it is he and Daryl have going for them right now. "Not the end of the world. They were gonna figure it out eventually, anyway."

  
Rick can hear shuffling from the next aisle over and he figures they only have a few more minutes before the others are done looking and come back for them. He sits up straighter and tugs on Daryl's shaggy hair, pulling him down for one last, long kiss.

  
The rest can wait. The scavenging, telling Lori, telling _Carl_ , dealing with however Shane is going to behave from now on. It can all wait. Right now he's got Daryl, and he's _his_ , and it's just the two of them. That's all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh. I hate this chapter and the ones that follow it so, so much. Also, I've not done Shane justice at all, I realize that, and I don't condone the use of his homophobic language at all, it just needed to happen. But I could have written it so much better, I realize that. I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this. 
> 
> RL is a mess right now, and I'll let you guys know more when I figure it out myself. Roses next chapter will likely be uploaded tomorrow afternoon. I've got some personal stuff to deal with that's been taking up a lot of time but it's fine. Hopefully I'll have good news to deliver tomorrow :)


	28. Chapter 28

They spend the night in Atlanta, camping out on the rooftop under the stars. There weren't enough tents to spare, but it's late and none of them feel particularly comfortable driving back to the camp in the middle of the night.

  
Rick wonders for a moment what the others will think, seeing how close he and Daryl sleep, even though it's ridiculous to be worried about that when he just kiss Daryl in front of all of them. But Daryl finds a secluded little spot on the other side of the roof, behind the staircase that leads through the building - one of the last tall buildings still standing, probably around ten stories high. He sets his pack down and settles into his blanket, wrapping it around himself to keep from laying on the hard concrete floor directly. It would probably be more comfortable sleeping inside, but it's safer up here where they can see and hear someone coming from a mile away.

  
Shane takes first watch, positioning himself on the edge of the roof with his legs dangling down, and Rick thinks that must be how he found out about him and Daryl - he must have seen them in the water that day, from his makeshift look-out station on the roof of the RV. Rick should have thought about that at the time, should have been more discrete. But he was with Daryl, and they were alone, and he just couldn't help himself.

  
He settles himself close to Daryl, throwing his own blanket over the two of them. He pulls the brunet closer, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him once, long and slow. He pulls back and looks into his stormy blue eyes, crinkled around the edges, and he's smiling. Rick's body still aches, and probably will for a few more days at least, but the butterflies in his stomach have nothing to do with his injuries.

  
"Can I see?" Daryl asks suddenly, motioning towards the hem of Rick's shirt and curling his fingers around it. Rick nods, and he lifts the fabric slowly, revealing a large patch of black-and-blue wrapping around his stomach up to his ribcage.

  
Daryl reaches out and runs his fingers over the bruises, palm flat on Rick's skin, and it hurts, but Rick doesn't want him to stop.

  
"'m sorry that happened to you," Daryl says, resting his hand on the side of Rick's chest, where a patch of bruising is spread out around his fingers. "Because of me."

  
"No," Rick says, shaking his head. "Because of _me_. My fault. I should have said something sooner, told everyone the truth. Shouldn't have hid like I did. But it's not on you, Daryl. It's not."

  
Daryl looks like he wants to say something else, but he opens his mouth and closes it just as quickly, eyes scanning down the marks on Rick's body from his chest to his hip. Rick pulls him closer and kisses his temple, just underneath his hairline, trailing his mouth down to his lips, his jaw, his neck. Daryl's breath hitches when Rick goes lower, pulling back his shirt to kiss his collarbones.

  
Rick would be lying if he said he never pictured going farther than this. He's had the same image in his mind since he first realized he had feelings for Daryl - watching him come undone, knowing that it's him that caused it. He's never been with a man, never even wanted to, but Daryl is different. Daryl is... _Daryl_ , and he's special, and Rick wants to give him everything and more just to show him that he deserves it.

  
But he's nervous, too, because kissing is something he knows, something he's done with enough women to know he's good at it. He's comfortable with kissing, and he would be comfortable if that's all they ever ended up doing. But he also wants more, wants to see the look on Daryl's face when he comes, wants to open himself up to Daryl, show him everything. Be with him in every sense of the word. But he's not sure if Daryl is ready for that, he's not even sure if he is.

  
Nerves bundle in the pit of his stomach as he dips lower, pulling up Daryl's shirt to draw kisses down his chest and stomach. Daryl doesn't say anything, doesn't move away, just arches his back when Rick gets to his belly button and draws in a sharp breath that echoes in the still night air.

  
Daryl is hard already, that much he can see, but that doesn't mean he wants to continue. And Rick would be okay if he didn't, would be fine just kissing him and holding him close the rest of the night. But he would be okay with continuing, too.

  
"Can I?" Rick asks, his fingers clenched around the waistband of Daryl's pants. They didn't bring a change of clothes, just blankets and backpacks, and Rick is already regretting wearing jeans.

  
He looks up at Daryl, who's watching him steadily through his lashes, hair hanging loosely over the sides of his face. His pupils are wide and he's bright red from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He nods, holding a hand over his mouth like he doesn't trust himself to speak. Rick grins, already loving the effect he's having on the brunet.

  
He undoes Daryl's jeans and pulls them down around his ankles; Daryl is wearing dark blue boxer-briefs that match the sweats he usually wears to bed. Rick never pegged him as the kind of guy to care about matching clothes, given the dirty vest he always wears.

  
Daryl squirms, straining against the fabric of his briefs. Rick palms him through the material, running his hand along his front in a way he knows from experience feels good. This, he can do - he's a man, he knows what to do to make a man feel good. He's not sure why he was so nervous. Daryl is already flushed and painfully hard; it's not going to take much to bring him over the edge.

  
Daryl groans, shifting his hips; they're both laying on their sides, and the position is a little awkward, but Rick is too sore to sit up and moving sends waves of pain through his entire left side. His leg is still stiff where Shane kicked him; he's been trying not to put too much pressure on it, and it tingles like it's about to fall asleep.

  
Rick reaches up and pulls Daryl down for a kiss, running their mouths together while he works his hand underneath the waistband of Daryl's briefs. This is no different than masturbating, he thinks as his fingers connect with solid flesh, hard and heady. He's already wet, twitching under Rick's hand, and Rick grins against his lips as he strokes, drawing moans out of the brunet's mouth with every movement.

  
"This okay?" he asks, watching Daryl's face carefully for any sign of complaint. Daryl nods sharply and Rick smiles.

  
He runs his fingers down his shaft and back up, rubbing his thumb against the tip of his cock and pressing down lightly. Daryl arches his back, spreading his legs wider; the weight of him against his palm feels good, and Rick desperately wants more. His own jeans are painfully tight, and just watching Daryl's expression, the way his eyes squeeze shut and his cheeks darken, is almost enough. He feels like a teenager all over again, aching and desperate, and he wonders how long it's been since the last time he felt this strongly about giving another person pleasure.

  
Daryl moans against Rick's lips, tongue already pressing into his mouth, hands held firmly around the back of his neck. He cards his hands through Rick's hair and Rick shudders, instinctively pressing his hips closer to Daryl's.

  
"Sh-shit, Rick," Daryl stutters out, holding his breath. His hips are moving of their own accord, pressing into Rick's palm. Daryl is practically on top of him now, leaning his entire upper body against Rick's. Rick smirks and strokes again, long and slow, watching Daryl's face intently with every motion.

  
A minute later Daryl shudders, gasps, and it's over. Rick works him through it, peppering kisses along his jaw. He pulls his hand out and wipes it off on the blanket, then rests it on Daryl's hip, drawing him closer until their legs are tangled together. Daryl's face is flushed, hair a mess and breath a little shaky, and Rick thinks he's never seen a sight more beautiful.

  
Daryl frowns and looks down, one hand moving along the waistband of Rick's jeans.

  
"D'you want me to...?" he asks, and Rick feels all the heat in his body jumping between his crotch and the tips of his ears.

  
"No," he says, despite the aching need growing in his belly. "I'm okay."

  
"You sure?"

  
Rick desperately wants to say no, but Daryl sounds so uncertain that he can't bring himself to give in. He doesn't want Daryl to feel like he has to return the favor, especially since Rick knows how inexperienced Daryl is. Besides, he didn't do it expecting something in return; he was satisfied enough just watching Daryl unravelling like that, he doesn't need anything more. At least, not right now.

  
"I'm sure," he says, pressing his thighs together as best he can manage with Daryl's leg between his own. "You good?"

 

Daryl blushes bright red and nods once, pulling his hands back away from Rick's hair and wrapping his arms around his chest instead, curling his fingers in the folds of his shirt.

  
"Then I'm good, too."

  
\---

  
They sleep tucked against each other under the blankets, and it's Glenn who wakes them up hours later.

  
"Seriously, guys?" he says, nodding down at Rick's arm still folded neatly over Daryl's stomach, their hands twined together loosely. "Save some of the PDA for when you're not out on a roof with a bunch of other people, okay?"

  
Daryl grunts out a chuckle and presses himself closer to Rick, keeping his eyes closed. Glenn makes a face and covers his eyes, looking scandalized.

  
"I don't even wanna know what you two were getting up to last night," he says, turning and walking away before either of them can say anything in response. Rick presses his chin against Daryl's shoulder, ghosting his breath across his ear, and he can see the blush rising in his face at just the right angle.

  
"He's just jealous," Rick says, kissing Daryl's jaw once before sitting up and pulling the blanket off of himself. He groans at the ache in his muscles; it hurts even more this morning than it did last night. His bruises feel like bullet wounds, pressing into his skin, and his sore leg will still barely support his weight.

  
Shane, at least, has enough tact to look guilty about it when he sees Rick hobbling over to the rest of the group a few minutes later, holding onto Daryl's upper arm for support. He looks between the two of them but doesn't say anything, just packs up his own things and makes his way back down the stairwell. The rest of the group follow, keeping their pace slow for Rick's sake. He barely even knows some of these people, but he already feels immensely grateful for them.

  
There's a small herd of Walkers outside, but they carefully manage to sneak around them through the alley on the other side of the building. The car is parked just outside of the city; there's too much rubble and abandoned vehicles to make it through the city with it. They hop a fence - Rick barely makes it over, even with help from both sides and a boost from Big Tiny - and are out of the city in just over half an hour, bags packed to the brim.

  
They make it back to camp a few hours later, and immediately Rick knows something is wrong. The first thing he hears as they're pulling up to the edge of the quarry is a scream, high-pitched and clearly feminine. _Lori_ , he thinks, even though it's impossible to distinguish the sound from any of the other women in the campsite. He's out of the car before it's even come to a complete stop, Shane on his heels.

  
A herd of Walkers swarms them before they even make it inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem. Posting another chapter right now, because this one is truly awful. Hope that makes up for it.


	29. Chapter 29

The herd is small, maybe four or five Walkers total, but they come out of nowhere and are on Rick and the others before they've even all stepped out of the car. Rick pulls his gun out on instinct and shoots the first one he sees, hitting it right between the eyes out of sheer luck. He glances around at the others, trying to keep track of which are his friends and which are Walkers.

  
Glenn has a knife and is swinging it wildly in front of himself as two Walkers approach him in tandem. Shane shoots a third, which goes down immediately. Daryl rushes out of the car and swings his crossbow in his arms, catching another Walker in the back of the head as it comes at him. Glenn manages to bury his knife into the skull of the first monster, but there's another one right behind it and it takes him a minute to pull his knife out.

  
Rick shoots once, twice, three times but only catches the thing in the back of the throat. Shane is on it in a second, taking aim a few feet away and shooting it just as its jaws are almost on Glenn's shoulder. It falls onto Glenn, unbalancing him, and he stumbles backwards. Daryl catches him before he falls, earning a mumbled _thanks_ in return, and he nods before returning to the front of the group with Rick.

  
Big Tiny crawls out of the car last, a baseball bat in hand, and cracks open the skull of a Walker hidden behind the car, in the cover of the woods. Rick looks around wildly, thinking for a moment that they've won, that they've taken out the threat, but then he hears another scream and he knows it isn't over yet.

  
He runs into the campsite in the direction of the shout, ending up back by the tents. With one car gone, there's a small gap in their defenses, just enough for a group of Walkers to get through. Rick counts at least half a dozen, roaming around the camp, clawing out at everyone they come across. Andrea is on top of the RV, shooting down at the Walkers below, and Dale is in the doorway doing the same. A couple of people are hiding inside of their cars with the doors locked, monsters just outside gnashing their teeth against the windows.

  
Rick immediately starts looking for Lori and Carl, but he doesn't see them anywhere. He helps Glenn take down another Walker - holding it by the shoulders while Glenn buries his knife hilt-deep into its face - and watches as Shane and Daryl shoot down several all at once. He feels kind of useless, watching the chaos unfold without any real skill to help with. He just runs around, firing shots at random, trying to find his wife and son in the middle of it all.

  
He finally spots them in the front seat of the silver SUV closest to the tents, with Carol and her daughter sitting in the back. One of the tents is unzipped, and there's a Walker inside _gnawing_ on something. Someone. Rick doesn't dare look any closer, simultaneously relieved that it isn't his own family and horrified that it's someone's.

  
Shots ring out in the air, a few people running but most either standing their ground and fighting or hiding out inside of the cars. Rick looks around for Daryl and spots him on the other side of camp, pulling an arrow out of the skull of a dead Walker. Another one comes at him, getting close enough to bite, and Daryl loads his crossbow again just in time. Then two things happen at once.

  
First, Daryl shoots the monster between the eyes and it falls backwards into the dirt. And second, another shot flies from the roof of the RV, aimed at the Walker, and hits Daryl right in the chest.

  
The world stands still. There's still chaos all around him, but it feels like it's in slow motion, and all Rick can see is Daryl, pitching forward onto the ground. He runs - he can't even remember telling his feet to move - dodging Walkers and people alike. In that moment, he doesn't care about the brutality around him, the people that could get hurt, the Walkers that could be on him in just seconds. All he cares about is Daryl, laying on the ground grasping at his chest with shaking fingers, blood _everywhere_.

  
Rick reaches him and throws himself on the ground beside him, hands trembling as he reaches out towards the brunet. He opens up his shirt, trying to ignore the blood that's sticky on his hands, and inspects the wound. It's shallow, thank God, and he can see the bullet through the skin. It's buried in his shoulder, nowhere dangerous, it's not anywhere near his heart, but Rick still feels dizzy just looking at it.

  
Rick can hear people shouting all around him, but the ringing in his ears drowns it out. He tries putting pressure on Daryl's wound, pushing both hands down on it hard, but the blood wells up between his fingers and makes his skin slippery. Daryl is nearly unconscious, eyelids fluttering, trying to lift his head weakly. He's moaning, hands shaking at his sides, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

  
And suddenly there's quiet. The last bullet whizzes through the campsite, the last Walker falls to the ground, and everything is silent. Nobody moves, like they're all too afraid there are more monsters to be found, but none come. Slowly, people start leaving their cars; some of them are crying, and Rick can hear their sobs over the pounding in his ears like they're right next to him.

  
Somebody pushes their way towards them, gently pulling Rick's hands off of Daryl's chest and pressing a rag over the wound instead. He looks up, dizzy and nauseous, and sees Carol. He can hear her shouting for something, supplies maybe, but he can't make out exactly what she's saying. Andrea is standing over them apologizing, tears welling up in her eyes, but he thinks somewhere in the back of his mind that it wasn't really her fault. She was just doing her job defending the camp. He can't blame her for that.

  
Somebody is calling his name, but he can't tell who it is or even if it's a man or a woman. He's disoriented, staring down at the blood on his hands, shoulders shaking. He watches as Carol wipes at Daryl's wound, taking something out of the hands of someone close by and using it to pull the bullet out. Daryl screams in pain as she wrestles with the bullet, finally getting it out in one piece and throwing it aside. The sounds Daryl is making remind Rick of the lab, the first couple of late nights where all he could hear as he was trying to sleep were screams and shouts from several floors below. It's the loudest he's ever heard Daryl get; usually he's so quiet, Rick has to really focus just to hear him. But right now he's all Rick can hear, echoing through the campsite, and he's almost certain that if there are any other Walkers around, they'll be drawn here by the sound.

  
Daryl is writhing, fighting with Carol as she attempts to stitch up the wound with a sewing needle. Shane holds him down by his opposite shoulder and Big Tiny takes his legs. Rick sits behind Carol, watching silently, eyes unfocused. He can see red, but it's blurry, and the movement of Carol's hands, but nothing else is clear.

  
"Rick, come on," somebody says from behind him, putting their hands on his shoulders. He turns around, so dizzy it takes him a minute to identify who's speaking - it's Lori, Carl at her hip. They both look shaken - Carl is white as a sheet and swaying on his feet, and Lori has blood on her hands but Rick can't figure out where it's from. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

  
He's distantly aware that he's shaking his head, sending a jolt of nausea to the pit of his stomach. He doesn't want to go anywhere; he wants to stay with Daryl until he's better. He has to get better, there's no way something as simple as a shoulder wound can take out Daryl Dixon. Not after everything they've been through together.

  
Lori puts her hands under his arms and pulls him to his feet. He stumbles, catching himself on her arm, and the scene looks even worse from above - Daryl, unconscious now, pale and still, with Carol at his side stitching him up with a sewing kit. He's surprised she can even see what she's doing through all the blood; it's dripping down his side and onto the ground, and Rick is mesmerized by the droplets as they fall.

  
"Come on, Rick," Lori says again, pulling him away. He keeps his eyes on Daryl until he can't anymore, until he's far enough away that he can't see him through the crowd of people. Lori guides him on shaking legs to his tent; he pretends not to notice the blood and viscera on the inside of another tent, just two down from his, with a body inside that's so torn apart he can't even tell if it's a man or a woman. He tries to think of the people he saw surrounding Daryl, tries to think of who was missing, but his mind feels achingly blank and thinking too hard just makes his head hurt.

  
"Here," Lori says, holding out a bottle of water and running it over his hands. He scrubs them together, wiping them off on a cloth she hands him next, and picks at the dried blood underneath his fingernails. He's got blood on the cuffs of his shirt sleeves and the knees of his jeans too, and he thinks it's all Daryl's. There might be some Walker blood mixed in, but if there is he can't tell the difference.

  
He sits down on the ground, watching the crowd of people around Daryl start to disperse. He wants to go see him, but he's not sure if he can manage standing up again without collapsing. The world feels like it's spinning all around him, blurring everyone's faces and making him lean on his hands for support. Lori crouches down beside him, Carl hanging back by the tent, and smoothes a wandering curl off of his forehead.

  
"He's gonna be okay," she whispers, running a hand through his hair. He thinks about Daryl, carding his fingers through his curls, and he shudders. "You know that, right? He's strong, I can see it. You are too. He's going to be just _fine_."

  
He nods, feeling like he's going to throw up. He doesn't trust himself to speak, so he presses his lips together into a tight line and lets her console him.

  
"You were right," she says, taking a seat in the dirt beside him. "Not about Shane, but about us. I can see that now. And it's okay."

  
Rick can't fully process what she's saying, but he thinks it's something about Daryl. Maybe she saw something, like Shane did, but for some reason she's not upset. She sounds tired, maybe a little depressed, but not angry. He must not understand exactly what she means, then. He makes a mental note to ask her later, when he feels up to talking again.

  
They sit together for a few minutes, Rick leaning against Lori when he feels like the world is spinning too fast around him. Carol comes over after a little while, hands clean and wearing a fresh shirt. She's smiling sadly, and Rick's heart flips a little in his chest.

  
He makes a move to stand but Lori holds him down by his arm.

  
"He'll be fine," Carol says quickly, seeing the worry on Rick's face. "He'll need lots of rest and someone to change his bandages every day, and he'll probably be sore for a while. But he's going to be okay. I am- _was_ a nurse. I've seen people pull through from worse than this." She watches him closely, her eyes narrowed. "Rick? Are _you_ alright?"

  
She looks down at him, expecting a response. He closes his eyes and nods. If Daryl is okay, he's okay. He just needs to be sure.

  
As if understanding his silent question, Carol says, "You can see him whenever you want to. He's sleeping right now, in the RV. The bed in there is a lot more comfortable than the ground. Dale has agreed to give it up for as long as Daryl needs it."

  
"Thank you," Lori says, and Carol nods and walks away. Lori turns back to Rick and whispers, just loudly enough for him to hear it, "Her husband just died. In their tent."

  
Pity and disgust well up inside of him as he pictures the scene, pictures Carol finding his body and still having enough sanity left to save Daryl's life. Granted, her husband wasn't the nicest person in the camp - he picked fights with pretty much everyone, including his own wife - but he was still her _husband_.

  
Lori leans her head on his shoulder for a minute, then shifts and stands, stretching. He sways a bit but somehow manages to stay sitting. He still feels like throwing up, but he can see better now and he doesn't miss the small smile on Lori's face as she looks down at him.

  
"You should go see him," she says, holding out a hand for him to take. He does, and she helps him to his feet.

  
He thinks he's probably never loved his wife as much as he does at this moment - not as his wife, not as the mother of their child, but as _Lori_. And, he thinks, he might love Daryl just a little bit too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter may seem a little similar to a recent chapter in Roses. I wrote this one first, but needed a very similar situation in Roses for a particular reason that you'll know if you read that story. And yes, they're very, very similar, but that's pretty much the only time Daryl almost died in the earlier seasons of the show, you know? I'm just going with canon here (mostly). That aside, things will no longer be similar in future chapters. Roses is it's own (much better) story, and I suggest you read that one too if you haven't already. 
> 
> Thank you for reading my rant. Four chapters left now. My good news has yet to come, but I'll tell you guys when it does. Should be soon (hopefully).


	30. Chapter 30

"I thought I lost you," Rick says, peppering kisses along the side of Daryl's face.

  
"Yeah?" the brunet croaks out, lifting his head as much as he can. He's lying on his back with his head propped up on a pillow. Rick is sitting with his legs crossed on the floor at his side, trying his best not to focus too much on the bandages wrapped around Daryl's shoulder and the red-flecked gauze visible underneath.

  
Rick leans forward and presses his lips against Daryl's, humming into his mouth.

  
"Yeah," he says as he pulls away. "You have no idea how worried I was."

  
Daryl chuckles, low and raspy, and then coughs. "'ve got an idea. Carol told me. Said you were a mess."

  
"She's right. And she saved you. I was pretty useless."

  
"Wouldn't say that."

  
Rick takes Daryl's hand in his own, stroking his palm with his thumb. He's never been inside of the RV before; it's Dale's, and he always thought it was kind of like trespassing. But Dale let him in without a word, and didn't even complain about the mud Rick tracked in on his shoes.

  
The bed is small - Daryl barely fits on it, with how tall he is, his legs hitting the side of the RV when he stretches out - but it's plush and way more comfortable than the hard ground outside. Rick feels a lump in his throat when he thinks about going to bed tonight without Daryl by his side. He looks outside of the window - the sun is sinking low over the horizon; hours have passed since the Walker incident, and they've only just finished burying the dead.

  
Ed Peletier wasn't the only person who was killed, but he's the only one Rick really knew by name. There were two others, a man and a woman he barely knew, had only spoken to once or twice. Still, the losses sting; he's been in this camp barely even a week and already he thinks of these people as his family.

  
Andrea nearly lost her sister, and she still hasn't stopped apologizing for accidentally shooting Daryl. Even Daryl has forgiven her; he knows she was aiming for the Walker in front of him, and it wasn't her fault he got to it first.

  
"Can stay here tonight," Daryl says suddenly, grasping Rick's hand tighter in his own. "Want you to. Dale won't mind. Plenty of room." He pauses, and then adds, like an afterthought, "Please."

  
The bed is barely big enough for the both of them, even pressed up against each other like they've been sleeping lately, but Rick doesn't have the heart to leave Daryl alone in here all night. He knows about Daryl's nightmares - doesn't know what they're about, but he can guess - and his dislike of small spaces, and the RV isn't exactly roomy.

  
"Sure," he says, standing. "Let me go grab my stuff and tell Carl. Shane can stay with him tonight."

  
Daryl nods and lets go of his hand, watching him leave.

  
Carl is in the tent when Rick gets there, laying down and staring at the blank screen on his video game with a bored expression on his face. Batteries must have died, Rick figures. He makes a note to look for more next time they go scavenging.

  
"Hey, buddy," he says, entering the tent and gathering up his things - pack full of clothes and his and Daryl's blankets. "I'm gonna stay with Daryl tonight, okay? Shane will sleep in here with you. Is that okay with you?"

  
Carl shrugs, throwing his game down on his blanket and rummaging through his own small suitcase for his pajamas.

  
"Doesn't matter to me," he says, pulling his clothes out and zipping his bag shut again. "Hey, dad? Are you and Daryl dating now?"

  
Rick sputters. "What?"

  
"I know you and mom aren't together anymore. I heard you talking about mom and Shane. But I didn't know you were into guys. Not that it matters, I guess."

  
"Carl, Daryl and I... We're not-"

  
"It's okay, dad. I saw you guys sleeping the other day, I woke up early. You look happy when you're with him. So I don't mind, honestly." Carl holds up his pajamas and speaks again before Rick can say anything.

"Can you leave now? I've got to get dressed and I'd rather not do it while Shane's in here."

  
Rick nods, dumbfounded, and silently exits the tent, wondering when his son grew up and how he didn't notice.

  
\---

  
Rick has to be especially careful not to bump Daryl's injured shoulder during the night. As a result, he doesn't sleep much, and he can tell from his erratic breathing pattern that Daryl doesn't either.

  
"Hey, Daryl," Rick whispers in his ear, sometime around midnight. Daryl shifts against him but doesn't turn. "You awake?"

  
Daryl hums in response, tapping on Rick's hand over his stomach with his fingertips.

  
Rick sighs, pressing a kiss into the back of Daryl's shoulder.

  
"Carl knows," he says shortly, feeling Daryl stiffen slightly, going still. "Says he doesn't mind. Figured it out on his own. Shane hasn't said anything to anyone yet, at least I don't think he has."

  
"Can't be sure, though," Daryl huffs out, relaxing just a fraction.

  
"No, but I think it's okay," Rick says. "I think Lori knows something. She said something to me that I don't think I understood, I was out of it, but I think I know now. And I think it's okay."

  
Daryl shifts, turning around on the bed to face Rick. He winces at the pain in his shoulder but doesn't make a sound.

  
"Yeah?"

  
"Yeah." Rick leans into him, arm still around his waist, and kisses him. Daryl's tongue slides out easily now, his lips parting for more, and Rick marvels again at how far the brunet has come.

  
Daryl snakes his arm around Rick's and reaches down, drawing his fingers down his stomach and underneath the waistband of his sweat pants. Rick freezes, pulling away, and has his hand on Daryl's before the brunet can go any further.

  
"Daryl, stop," he says, already half-hard in his pants but not wanting Daryl to know that. Daryl's breath comes out in huffs, sharp exhales, and he wiggles his fingers against Rick's skin.

  
"Why? Don't you want it?"

  
"I do," Rick says. "But not right now. You're injured. You're not thinking straight."

  
Daryl tries to pull his hand away from Rick's but he's tired, and the medicine Carol gave him for the pain makes his muscles feel weak. His hand is shaking, so close to Rick's crotch, and Rick can see the nerves on his face. He isn't ready for this, and they both know it.

  
 Rick pulls both of their hands up, twining their fingers together against his bare stomach.

  
"Just... Wanna make you feel good, too," Daryl admits, head down. Rick can see the barest hint of a blush on the tips of his ears.

  
"You do," Rick tells him, letting go of his hand briefly and putting his fingers under his chin, forcing him to look up. He peeks out from underneath long lashes and messy hair tangled over his face, eyes wide and unblinking. "And I'll take you up on your offer someday, I promise. But your shoulder is hurt right now, I thought I nearly lost you, so can we just relax for a little while? I swear the room still hasn't stopped spinning."

  
Daryl gives him a small smile and puts his hand on Rick's hip instead, pulling their bodies flush together. Rick is worried he'll hurt Daryl's shoulder even more, but the brunet doesn't seem phased as their torsos slot together, chest to chest, legs tangled under the blankets. It's the most comfortable Rick has been in weeks, since before the outbreak, since the last time he slept in a real bed with a warm body beside him. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this.

  
"Okay," he says against Rick's mouth, closing his eyes.

  
\---

  
"Can bathe by my own damn self, ya know."

  
"I know. But I also know we're leaving tomorrow, so I can't exactly afford to let you take _twelve hours_ to wash up when I can help you get it done in one."

  
"Don't take _that_ long," Daryl huffs, crossing his arms and wincing at the sting in his shoulder.

  
"Doesn't matter," Rick says. He holds out his hand to Daryl, who stares at it for a moment before taking it, looking slightly put-out. "I won't be here tomorrow, so we've gotta do it today. You're gonna be all alone tomorrow. You're gonna _miss_ me."

  
Daryl rolls his eyes. "Not gonna be alone. Got Carol. She's alright."

  
"Oh _is_ she?" Rick wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Daryl coughs, hiding a grin behind his hand.

  
"Shut up. You're just jealous 'cause she's pretty and you're _not_."

  
Rick stops, holding his free hand to his chest, looking offended. Daryl slaps his hand away and throws his arm around Rick's shoulders, letting him guide the brunet out the door and down the short steps out of the RV. It's a tight squeeze, with both of them in the doorway at once, but they manage; Daryl stumbles once, but Rick catches him with an _I told you_ so look in his direction.

  
"Can it, Grimes," he warns when Rick opens his mouth to say just that. "'m in too much pain to deal with you right now."

  
"I'm hurt, _Dixon_." Rick tightens his grip around Daryl's waist, pulling him a bit faster along the path to the water. Daryl is like dead weight, heavy and not helping in the least. He's probably doing it on purpose, Rick realizes, because it's not like he was shot in the _legs_. "You want me to leave?"

  
Daryl mumbles something Rick can just barely hear, and he asks him to repeat it just to spite him.

  
"Said no," Daryl grumbles, picking up the pace. His shoulder is still sore, even though it's been three days since the Walker attack and since he was shot. Three days of letting Rick change his bandages, trying and failing to get into Rick's pants, sleeping on his side and trying to ignore the ache in his entire left side every time he moves. Three days of being cooped up inside of the RV, and this is the first time Rick has dragged him out. And it's to _bathe_.

  
It's not like Daryl smells or anything, he's been keeping clean and changing his clothes every day, but his hair is an absolute mess and Rick can't run his hands through it when it's all tangled like it is. And he really, really wants to run his hands through it.

  
There are a lot of things he'd like to do with Daryl, but the timing is all wrong. Daryl is injured, he's in pain, and it wouldn't be fair to push him when he clearly isn't ready. And if that means that Rick has to relieve some of the tension in the woods late at night while the others are eating supper, then so be it. He just doesn't want Daryl to do something he'll regret, or worse, something that will hurt him.

  
They reach the edge of the quarry and the low slope that leads to the water. Rick takes it slow, pulling Daryl along beside him, until his feet touch rock. He takes his shirt off, then his jeans, toeing off his shoes and socks along the way. Daryl stands next to him, shifting on his feet, looking self-conscious all of a sudden. Rick realizes it's because he can't take his own clothes off, it would be too hard one-handed and he's been instructed by Carol to avoid using his left arm as much as possible until his shoulder heals.

  
Rick reaches out and pulls off Daryl's vest, careful not to catch the heavy material on his bandages. He unbuttons his shirt slowly, gently pulling it over his injured shoulder and down his arms. He tries not to stare, but it's hard not to.

  
It's been three days, and Rick still hasn't gotten used to the idea of Daryl being shot. And every time he sees the wound, or the bandages covering it, it takes him back to that moment, that horrifying second where he thought Daryl was dead all over again. He really thought he lost him.

  
"Rick? You okay?" Daryl waves his hand, his right hand, in front of Rick's face. Rick blinks, shaking his head to clear it, and nods.

  
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah. I'm okay. Let's just get you clean, alright? You stink."

  
Daryl pushes his arm and tries to hide his smile, but his the crinkles in the corners of his eyes give it away.

  
Daryl braces himself on Rick, holding onto his shoulder, while Rick helps him out of his pants - sweat pants, since jeans are too hard to put on with one hand - and shoes. Daryl wiggles his bare toes in the dirt and steps into the water, with Rick at his side holding onto his hand.

  
The water is cold, and it only serves to remind Rick that it's nearly winter and they can't stay in this place for much longer. They need to find shelter, a place with four walls and a roof, a place no Walkers can get into. They've held meetings - with a makeshift council Rick has somehow found himself a member of - and tried to think of safe places to stay. But nobody even knows for sure if _anywhere_ is safe anymore. They can't go back to Atlanta, they can't go deeper into the woods, and even if they could get around on the congested freeway, there's no guarantee that any neighboring cities are any better off.

  
Daryl wades into the water up to his waist, ducking down and dipping his hair in, trying to work through the tangles with his good hand. Rick joins him, pulling his hand away and replacing it with his own, tugging knots loose and massaging Daryl's scalp at the same time. A low groan tells him that Daryl is enjoying it, and he grins. He pecks a kiss on the brunet's nose, water dripping down his face, and then another on his lips.

  
Daryl hums, rubbing water out of his eyes. He puts his right arm over Rick's shoulder and presses their foreheads together, looking at him through long, wet lashes.

  
"Best thing that's ever happened to me," he says, voice low and raspy. "The goddamn apocalypse."

  
It sounds a little bit like _I love you_. So Rick kisses him, long and slow, with everything he has. And it feels a little bit like _I love you,_ too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Only a few more chapters to go. I'll be posting them all this weekend, so look out for them. Technically, you can view this as the end of the story, since not a whole lot happens after this. But I'll still post the last 3 chapters just in case anyone is interested.
> 
> On a semi-related note, my good news has turned into bad news. It appears I've had my second miscarriage yesterday. Not nearly as far along as with my first, but still not fun at all. My lovely 2-year-old is helping me through it but I haven't had the will to write as much lately. So the next update to Roses may be a day or two later than usual. I apologize. I'm working on it, I promise. And I'll get back into regular updates soon. Just please understand that I may need a couple of days to recover. Thanks guys :)


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for the kind words these past few days. I'm doing much better now. I'm excited to try again and hopeful that baby number 2 will be coming soon. As a thank you for all of your kindness, I've decided to post the final 3 chapters at once. Please enjoy :)

Rick returns from his run two days later, with a bag full of food and some extra ammo for their guns. He even managed to find a shirt he thinks Daryl will like in an abandoned department store, with buttons on the front and dark blue material that matches his eyes.

  
He's surprised to find Daryl up and about when he gets back, walking around the campsite with Carol at his side, talking in his low drawl about something Rick can't quite hear. Carol replies and Daryl chuckles, making Rick's heart swell. He sets his pack down by the car and walks the length of the camp towards Daryl. Daryl hears him, looks up, and literally _runs_ across the clearing and into Rick's arms, burying his face in Rick's shoulder.

  
Rick wraps his arms around Daryl's back, feeling the bumps of the familiar angel wings on the back of his vest under his fingers. He's careful not to nudge Daryl's injured shoulder, holding him loosely chest-to-chest. Daryl exhales sharply against his neck and the sensation makes Rick shiver.

  
"Missed you," Daryl says, low and raspy. "A lot."

  
Rick breathes in the familiar scent of campfire and lake water. "I missed you, too." He presses a kiss to the side of Daryl's neck, and is surprised when Daryl pulls back suddenly and kisses him back, hard and slow, on the mouth. A warm tongue slides between his lips and Rick thinks, _I should leave more often._

  
Daryl kisses him possessively, nipping at his bottom lip and drawing it between his teeth. He puts his hands on Rick's face and pulls him as close as he can manage, slotting their torsos flush together. He closes his eyes, breathing fast through his nose, and moans against Rick's lips. Rick hadn't realized how much he'd missed this.

  
Rick pulls back, panting hard, and looks at Daryl from underneath his lashes. "God, you're beautiful," he says, watching the blush spread up Daryl's neck, along his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. He presses kisses to his jaw and the corner of his mouth.

  
Someone clears their throat from behind them and Rick turns to see Carol, balancing a plate of food in each hand. She smiles like she didn't just interrupt a private moment, even though technically they're standing in the middle of the campsite where anyone could see them.

  
"Lunch," she says, handing them each a plate. Plain pasta and canned vegetables. Again. But better than the granola bars Rick ate on his run in Atlanta - seriously, why did nobody think to bring a can opener? - and he shovels a spoonful into his mouth before they've even reached the chairs around the dying fire.

  
He pulls Carol aside while Daryl gets settled, talking to Glenn in a quiet voice - when did Daryl become so popular? Or so social? He holds his plate nervously in his hands and Carol stares at him with a blank expression on her face.

  
"I just..." he begins, lost for words suddenly. "I wanted to know how he did. While I was gone. How he reacted."

  
Carol's eyebrows furrow and she crosses her arms across her chest. "Why don't you ask him that yourself?"

  
"He'd never tell me," Rick says. "Especially if it's something embarrassing. Nothing embarrassing happened when I was gone, did it?"

  
"No," Carol says, shaking her head quickly before he has the chance to jump to conclusions. "He was fine. A couple of nightmares-" she holds up a hand before Rick can interrupt her, "-but he worked through them on his own. I'm in the tent closest to the RV, that's the only reason I know. He was quiet most of the time - just, once or twice. No panic attacks. I think being in the RV is better than a tent, for him. More space."

  
Relief floods Rick, peppered with an undercurrent of trepidation. A couple of nightmares is worse than none. Even with Rick there next to him, sometimes Daryl still wakes up in a panic, but it hasn't happened for a while. He'd thought Daryl was getting _better_.

  
"He missed you," Carol continues, like she doesn't notice the conflicting emotions on Rick's face. "Talked about you all the time. Kind of sappy, isn't he?"

  
Rick shrugs. He can think of at least a dozen words to describe Daryl Dixon, and _sappy_ isn't one of them.

  
Daryl looks up at Rick, confused, and gives him a small wave from across the campsite. He's picking at his food again; Rick wonders if he ate much at all while he was gone, without Rick there to remind him. He hopes Carol remembered.

  
"Thank you," Rick says, sincere. "For taking care of him."

  
Carol smiles and claps one hand on his shoulder, letting her fingers linger there for a few seconds. "You're welcome."

  
\---

  
It's starting to get colder outside and, as a result, the RV is like an icebox during the night.

  
Daryl hums, pulling the blanket closer to himself. "'m cold." Rick's bare feet tingle with the sudden loss of warmth and he presses his body closer to Daryl's, tugging the blanket back over his legs.

  
Daryl fights with Rick over the - definitely large enough for the two of them - blanket for a few minutes before finally giving up and adjusting it over them both. He tucks it in around his waist and rolls onto his back, turning his head to look at Rick through the hair on his face.

  
"Hi," he says, wide awake. He puts one arm across Rick's hip and pulls him in until their noses touch.

  
"Hey. Demanding today, aren't you?" He's not complaining, especially after the greeting he had this afternoon.

  
Daryl shrugs, pulling on the blanket around his shoulders. "Missed you."

  
"So you've said."

  
Daryl grins and presses their lips together, shyly at first and then with more fervor. He moves his mouth, flicking his tongue out between his teeth, and licks at Rick's lips hungrily. Rick rolls over until he's on top of the brunet, mouths still together, and puts his hands on either side of his head. Daryl's hair is splayed out around his head, soft and smooth, and Rick plays with a few strands underneath his palms.

  
Daryl settles his hands on Rick's hips, holding on tightly, gripping his fingernails into his skin hard enough to leave marks. He pulls Rick's waist down, pressing it flush against his own, the fabric of both of their sweatpants the only thing separating them. He pushes up, back nearly leaving the bed, and grinds against Rick, hard.

  
Rick groans and bites Daryl's lip, pulling it in between his teeth and sucking. The pulsing between his thighs is distracting, and Daryl's hips against his own isn't helping. If they don't stop soon, he's not going to be able to stop, and he really, really needs to be able to stop.

  
But Daryl, as usual, seems to have other plans. Rick pushes himself back, rolling over on the bed until his back touches the mattress, but Daryl follows him, pushing down on his shoulders and pressing his body back against Rick's like he hasn't even moved.

  
"Daryl," Rick pants out between kisses, long and slow and full of tongue and teeth. "We should stop."

  
Daryl cocks his head, licking at Rick's lips one more time before pulling back and sitting up.

  
"Why?" he asks, straddling Rick's hips with his obvious erection pressed against Rick's stomach through his pants. He leans down again and mouths at Rick's neck, pulling at his skin with his teeth, and Rick is too late to suppress the moan that follows.

  
"Because," Rick manages, holding his breath. "You're not-"

  
"Am. Ready." Daryl pulls Rick's shirt up, running his tongue down his chest and stomach. Rick shudders, squeezing his thighs tightly together. Every movement sends tingles down his spine, makes his body pulse and the tightness in his pants throb. Daryl's tongue darts in and out of Rick's belly button, and his hips buck all on their own, up against Daryl's chest. "You are, too."

  
Rick wants to shake his head, because he really doesn't know if he's ready for anything, he's just as uncertain as Daryl usually is. He has no idea what comes next, what's on Daryl's mind, or why Daryl is so eager to please him all of a sudden. But his body is reacting on its own, and his throat is so tight he can't do anything but nod, just once, throwing his hand over his mouth to hold back the noises.

  
Daryl leans forward once more and places a kiss on the outside of Rick's hand, then pulls it away and does the same on his lips. Just a peck, and then he draws himself back down along Rick's body, peppering kisses on his chest, nipples - Rick squirms and pulls his legs closer together - and stomach. Then he disappears underneath the blanket until all Rick can see is the crown of his head, but Rick can definitely _feel_ what he's doing.

  
He feels the drawstring waistband of his sweat pants being tugged down, followed by his boxers until they rest somewhere around his knees. He feels Daryl's hands, fingertips tracing the outside of his cock, stroking lightly. His touch is feather-light and leaves Rick feeling breathlessly needy, moving his hips upward into Daryl's hands until he feels a rough arm on his stomach, holding him down. And then he can feel his _tongue_.

  
It's the most incredible sensation he's ever felt, and it's only just the tip of Daryl's tongue ghosting over his aching cock. He starts at the top and moves his way downward, licking slowly, leaving Rick helplessly wiggling his hips, hands fisted around the fabric of the blanket covering him up to his waist. Rick bites down on his bottom lip and barely suppresses a groan as Daryl gets to the base of his cock, mouthing at his balls like he's done this a million times before. He places kisses between licks and goes painfully slow, but Rick doesn't trust himself to ask him to go faster, because he's worried about the sounds he'll let out if he opens his mouth.

  
He can feel Daryl open his mouth and take just the tip of his penis inside, letting his teeth scrape gently over his sensitive skin. Rick shivers and he can imagine the grin on Daryl's face right now, watching his reactions closely. His cheeks hollow and he moves his mouth, sucking with loud, wet sounds that make Rick blush. He wishes Daryl would be a little quieter, anyone could hear, and just the noises he's making are almost enough to send Rick over the edge right then and there.

  
"D-Daryl," Rick stutters, keeping his voice as low as possible. "You..." He loses track of what he was going to say, moaning out a curse instead when Daryl takes him in all the way to the back of his throat and drags his teeth on the way back up.

  
Rick lets go of the blanket and instead buries his fingers in Daryl's messy hair, splayed out across his stomach. Daryl sucks again, hard and loud, and Rick accidentally pulls on his hair. He's about to let go and maybe try for an apology when a moan falls out of Daryl's mouth, muffled, and he twirls another lock of his hair between his fingers tightly.

  
Daryl's hands are on Rick's thighs, drawing circles with his thumbs on the sensitive inner flesh. Rick raises his legs off the mattress, pushing up slightly with his hips, but keeping his back down. He wiggles his toes against Daryl's legs, earning a low growl around his cock that makes his entire body tingle.

  
His whole body is a mess of need, throbbing and pulsing, and every motion feels intensified. Daryl pulls his mouth off with a wet _pop_ and starts stroking Rick again with his hand; the absence of his warm, wet mouth makes Rick ache, but his fingers quickly fill the void.

  
Daryl pushes out from under the blankets and kisses Rick's stomach as he goes, his tongue darting out to taste his salty skin every few seconds. He plants kisses along the hair on his chest and sucks bruises into the sensitive skin of his neck, just underneath the collar of his shirt. The room feels like a sauna - hot and sticky and sweaty, spinning if he keeps his eyes open for too long. But he doesn't dare close them, doesn't want to miss the look on Daryl's face when he finally makes eye contact, stormy blue and light blue. He keeps his hands in Daryl's hair and pulls him closer, melting their mouths together while his hips grind up into Daryl's moving hands.

  
And then suddenly, it's over. A dull heat pulses in his lower stomach and his back arches, his entire body thrown into spasms of heat and light. Daryl smirks against Rick's lips, stroking him slowly through his orgasm, kissing him long and slow.

  
Daryl moves his hands to Rick's hips and shifts, laying on his side facing Rick with his head on the pillow. He's beaming, hair a mess around his face, and Rick doesn't think he's ever seen something so _beautiful_.

  
"You're so fucking gorgeous," Rick pants, looking at Daryl from under his lashes - at his hair, splayed out in every direction, his dark blue eyes blown wide and his mouth cherry-red and lips swollen.

  
"Not," Daryl murmurs, like he doesn't expect Rick to hear him, and he barely does.

  
"No," Rick says, voice raspy. "You are." He presses their bodies together again, hand immediately reaching out towards the brunet's crotch. He's hard, and his breath hitches on contact. "You're so. Fucking. Beautiful."

  
Daryl just shakes his head, mouth closed tightly and eyelids fluttering. Rick is hit with a sudden determination to prove it, to show him just how much he means to Rick. So he scoots closer, leans down underneath the blankets, and does just that.


	32. Chapter 32

"Well, it doesn't look infected," Carol says, examining the patch of mottled skin on Daryl's left shoulder. It's pink and puckered, surrounded by thin tendrils of scar tissue. It looks a lot better than it did just a couple of weeks ago, no pus, no blood, but the scar is large and obvious, even without the thick bandage showing through his shirt. "I'd say you're free to air it out. As long as it doesn't open up again, you're good to go."

  
"Thank you," Daryl mutters, glancing down at the wound through his lashes. Rick squeezes his hand tighter, rubbing against his knuckles with his thumb.

  
"Thanks, Carol," Rick says, nodding at the nurse. She bundles up his used bandages and throws them in the wastebasket, standing and wiping invisible dust off of her pants. She walks to the front of the RV and stops just inside of the doorway.

  
"And boys?" she calls back over her shoulder. Rick and Daryl both look up. "Maybe keep it down a little next time. Remember, my tent is right next door."

  
Daryl ducks his head, blushing up to the tips of his ears, but Rick just grins. The noises he pulled out of Daryl last night - he'd be surprised if the whole camp didn't hear them. Rick kisses the lobe of his dark red ear and pulls him in for a sideways hug.

  
"C'mon, it's not that bad. Nobody seems to mind, at least. We must be doing something right."

  
Daryl groans, burying his face in his hands. Rick kisses the tips of his fingers, glancing down at his shirtless torso.

  
"You know, we could just stay in today. I don't think anybody would miss us." Daryl peeks at him through his fingers and Rick wiggles his eyebrows, his smile broad and full of teeth.

  
Daryl slowly lowers his hands and shakes his head. "Can't. Promised Carol we'd do laundry. Since most of it's ours, anyway."

  
Rick has enough tact to look guilty, but only for a moment. His grin doesn't even slip. "Fine, but you're mine tonight. I doubt Dale is gonna let us stay in here much longer now that you're feeling better; we might as well take advantage of the time we've got." Rick doesn't even want to think about sharing a tent with Carl again, having to keep his hands to himself all night. It's been weeks since they broke the 'no touching' rule, and Rick looks forward to seeing Daryl come undone as often as he can. He's going to miss it, if all they'll get outside of the RV is groping in the woods and kisses in the lake.

  
"Okay," Daryl says, not even bothering to fight it anymore. "'m yours."

  
Rick's pulse picks up a few beats and he kisses the smile on Daryl's lips.

  
Laundry ends up being just as boring as Rick expects - dipping other people's soiled clothes into buckets filled with lake water and soap, handing them to Daryl to rinse, and draping them over the makeshift clothesline strung between the two largest trees. But at least he gets to do it with Daryl, so he really doesn't mind.

  
He's just dropping someone's underwear into the bucket - and trying to avoid touching it too much, ew - when he hears shouts from across the campsite. He and Daryl turn their heads at the same time, trying to overhear, but all it sounds like from this distance is noise. It's pretty easy to figure out what's happening just from looking, though.

  
Shane is standing by one of the fire pits, holding his suitcase in one hand and trying to pry Lori's arm off of his other. He looks angry, but it's nothing compared to the expression on Lori's face. She looks livid, shouting something at him and then gesturing down at her steadily growing belly.

  
Daryl looks at him, concern on his face. "Is he leaving?"

  
Rick shrugs. "Looks like. Don't know why Lori wants him to stay so bad, though. She hasn't really spoke to him in weeks."

  
"Yeah," Daryl agrees, glancing back at the arguing couple. "But it's his kid, ain't it?"

  
"How do you know that?" Rick asks, surprised. He doesn't remember even telling Daryl that Lori's pregnant, let alone about her affair with Shane. Maybe he let it slip on accident?

  
"Kinda obvious," Daryl says. "Figured that's why you two ain't together anymore."

  
"Pretty much," Rick says. He doesn't mention how Daryl is part of the reason, too. Rick might still be trying to make things work with Lori, if it weren't for his strong feelings for the brunet. He can't remember the last time he felt like that about someone else, even his wife.

  
Shane throws his suitcase down and pries Lori's hand off of his arm, slapping it away none too gently. That just makes her angrier, and she starts shouting loudly enough for Rick to hear.

  
"You want to leave me? Go ahead. But you're not abandoning this child!" Her hands are in fists at her sides. Her billowing shirt shows just the barest outline of a growing stomach.

  
Rick remembers how she didn't even want this baby to begin with, she just went along with it because Rick told her to. he feels guilty, because that really wasn't his decision to make, and now it looks like Lori is going to have to go through it alone. Rick had thought that at least Shane would stay by her side, but he must not have loved her as much as Rick had guessed.

  
"Raise it with Rick, then!" Shane bellows, facing her from the side with his hands up. "He's the one that wanted it! Not me!"

  
"It's _your_ baby! Not _his_!" She looks around for a moment, like she's just realized how loud she's being, and drops her voice down to a near whisper that Rick can't hear.

  
"What?" Shane says, voice carrying across the camp. "Just because he's off being a fag now, he can't still be a father? Bullshit, Lori. You know it."

  
It takes her a minute to reply, and when she does, her voice is low. Rick strains his ears but he can't hear. He doesn't even know if it's right for him to be eavesdropping, even if the whole camp can probably hear what they're saying. Daryl, beside him, has gone completely still, his hands clenched around the fabric of a shirt he's in the middle of rinsing.

  
Shane picks up his suitcase again and turns away, still shouting at Lori behind his back. She follows him, matching his pace, but doesn't grab his arm again.

  
"Maybe you can make it work. One big happy family, right? But I ain't a part of that, never was. You never loved me, Lori. Admit it."

  
As they get closer to the edge of camp, Rick turns around and tries to pretend he isn't listening, scrubbing a handful of soapy clothes against a washboard. Next to him, Daryl does the same, blinking down at the shirt in his hands like he isn't sure how it got there.

  
Lori whispers something else that causes Shane to storm off, marching into the woods with his suitcase over his shoulder. He's probably going back to the freeway to get his car, Rick thinks, but Lori doesn't follow him. She just stands by one of the Walker traps drawn between two trees, and it takes Rick a moment to realize she's crying.

  
"You should go," Daryl says, startling him. "Be with her."

  
"But you-"

  
"Can do laundry on my own." Daryl smiles, but he doesn't look happy. "She needs you."

  
Rick's heart feels like it's barreling against his chest and he stands on shaky legs, wiping the dirt off the back of his pants. Lori is kneeling against a tree when he reaches her, holding her head in her hands. If she hears him coming, she doesn't react.

  
"Lori, I..." he starts, unsure of what to say. How can he possibly make this any better?

  
"You were right," she mutters from between her palms. "I did love him, once. God, I was so _stupid_."

  
He sits down next to her, on the sparse grass underneath the tree, and she shifts until their legs are touching. It takes her a minute, but she finally lowers her hands, looking up at him through wet lashes.

  
"You weren't stupid, Lori," he says, truthful. "He was a good man. He's changed. Maybe a little time away will be good for him."

  
"You're just saying that because you got what you wanted." She gestures in the direction of the area by the lake where Daryl is sitting, scrubbing a checkered fabric shirt against a washboard. He doesn't look up, concentrating hard on his task.

  
"I love you, Lori. I just..."

  
"Love him more? It's okay." She offers him a small smile, brushing her hair over one shoulder. Rick's heart hammers against his ribcage painfully. He's never thought of _love_ and _Daryl Dixon_ in the same sentence, but somehow, it doesn't bother him as much as he'd thought it would.

  
Lori takes off her wedding ring, playing with it between her fingers. Rick looks down at his own golden band but doesn't remove it.

  
"This baby... I want it. And I want you to be a part of it's life." She sighs, rotating the ring between her thumb and index finger.

  
"I'm not going anywhere." He's surprised by the conviction in his own words, but they're true. He wouldn't leave even if she wanted him to. "I'm here for you, and for Carl. And this baby."

  
"It's not going to be easy."

  
He smiles. "Nothing we do ever is."

  
Lori pulls off her necklace and opens the latch, stringing her wedding ring through the chain. Rick helps her put it back around her neck while she holds back her hair.

  
"We're not married anymore, Rick," she says, glancing at the ring still on his finger. "You were right. And it really is okay."

  
She leans over and kisses his cheek once, then stands up and brushes dirt off of the back of her pants. She gives him one last smile and walks away, the chain around her neck swinging as she moves. Rick looks at Daryl, still absorbed in his task, and the weight in his stomach feels lighter, somehow.

  
He twists the golden band off of his finger and puts it in the pocket of his jeans, and returns to Daryl's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just felt like Lori and Rick deserved some kind of closure. And I really didn't feel like killing Shane. However, Roses is a completely different story, and anything can happen there. Especially to Shane. So you might want to watch out for that chapter, coming soon ;)


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thank you all for following me on this wild ride back into the fanfiction world! I'm so glad to have met you all, I feel so welcomed and it's so, so amazing being here! If you haven't already, please check out my other fic, Roses are Red. Just because this fic is over doesn't mean there won't be more to come. I'm here to stay :) 
> 
> Enjoy :)

It's still standing.

  
"You sure you wanna go in?"

  
Daryl just nods, looking up at the towering building with a less than confident expression. He looks cautious, a little afraid, but determined.

  
"Okay," Rick says, taking his hand even though they're in a group with three other people who can see everything they do. Rick doesn't care anymore. He wants them to see, wants them all to know that Daryl is his.

  
On the outside, the lab looks more or less the same as it did last time Rick was there - maybe a few more scrapes in the foundation, some dust settled on the roof, but it's still standing. A few of the buildings around it are, too - mostly commercial, a couple of gyms, a smoothie stand, a small clothing outlet. Rick hasn't been to this side of the city since he left, but he's not sure what's been keeping him away. Daryl, he thinks. He knows Daryl never wanted to come back here.

  
It was Glenn's idea to check. He wanted to be sure that Jenner left, or see if he's okay, if he stayed. But mostly, he wanted to know if the place was still standing. And it is.

  
Rick pulls Daryl through the front door, surprised to find it open. The lights are out and the power is down, so the automatic lock on the door must have malfunctioned. Rick is glad, because he doesn't have his key card, and it's getting late - they need to find a place to stay for the night if they want to head home in the morning.

  
Home, Rick thinks. When did he start thinking of the camp as _home_? He shouldn't, because he knows they can't stay there forever, but Daryl is there, and Lori and Carl, and it feels _safe_. Even with the Walkers parading around in the woods, getting caught in their traps. Even with the deaths they've had to face. Even with Daryl getting shot. It's still the best place he's ever lived in.

  
Daryl itches at his injured shoulder, which has healed into a mottled pink scar that'll probably be with him forever. He casts a sidelong glance at Rick, giving him a weak smile, as the glass double doors close behind them.

  
It's like putting on a glove - the place feels so familiar, Rick remembers every hallway, every door and lab and room. And everything is exactly as it was, untouched by the amount of time they've been away. Rick thinks about his time there, how he met Daryl, everything that lead up to this moment, holding his hand as they walk through the hall. Some of the memories are painful - Daryl screaming, having to hold him down while Jenner drew his blood, watching Daryl get sick and thinking that they were both going to die.

  
But there's also Daryl, leaving his cell for the first time. Daryl, telling him about his brother and motorcycles and hunting. Daryl, letting him sleep next to him on the floor on the last night, getting to touch him, teaching him that not all people are bad. Holding his hand the first time, telling him that he could leave the lab. The late nights they spent together, just talking. Getting Daryl to trust him, and trusting him enough to remove his helmet in return.

  
Beside him, Daryl squeezes his hand tighter, his palm sweaty. His hair is a mess in his face again, and Rick wants to push it back behind his ear but he keeps walking instead, up the stairs to the second-to-last floor. Big Tiny, Glenn, and Andrea follow, the latter two looking around like they've just seen a ghost. It must be just as weird for them as it is for Rick, seeing this place still standing.

  
"You okay?" Rick whispers to Daryl, keeping his voice low so the others can't hear. Daryl taps his fingers on the back of Rick's hand and nods.

  
"Yeah. Just a little spooked."

  
Rick understands what he means, and he wishes they had picked a different place to spend the night. Hell, even the little boutique across the street or the smoothie shop with boards on its windows. They wouldn't have been as safe, or probably as comfortable, but Rick doesn't want Daryl to feel like he has to be here. Like he's being forced to relive an awful part of his past, just because he was finally cleared by Carol to go on a run.

  
"Hey, 'm fine," Daryl says, nudging his shoulder against Rick's. "Stop thinking."

  
Rick smiles sheepishly and continues up the stairs. Their shoulders brush every few steps and Rick's stomach feels like it's full of butterflies. Like a fucking teenager with a crush.

  
Jenner isn't there. They don't exactly look for him, but they pass every floor on their way up and he isn't on any of them. He could be on the top floor, they stop just one short, but it's quiet in the building and there's a layer of dust over everything, from the computers to the chairs to the dining table in the first floor cafeteria. Nobody's been here in weeks. Rick isn't sure whether to be relieved or uncomfortable about the idea of his former boss out on the streets. Jenner didn't strike him as a man who could survive on his own, but Rick hopes he can.

  
They break ranks when they reach the bedrooms. Glenn, Andrea, and Big Tiny all settle into their own rooms, but Rick knows Daryl will want to sleep with him. The only problem is the bed.

  
Daryl glances down at it first and looks up at Rick, holding up his hands. "Too small," he croaks, with something like amusement in his voice.

  
Rick remembers the beds very well, how awkward they were to sleep in with just one person, let alone trying to fit two. They'd have to literally lay on top of each other for it to work, and as nice as that sounds, Rick figures neither of them will get much sleep that way.

  
"The floor it is," Rick says, already pulling the blankets and pillows off of the bed and laying them out on the floor. This is the same room they stayed in on the last night they were here, when he and Daryl slept in the same room for the first time. It's only fitting, he thinks.

  
Daryl is on top of him before he can even get settled, messing up the blankets with his knees as he pushes Rick to the floor.

  
"Not getting any sleep tonight, I'm guessing?"

  
Daryl grins down at him, hands on either side of his head, and leans down to push their lips together. His mouth opens immediately, eager, and Rick's does the same. Their chests touch, and Daryl draws one leg up between Rick's, knee between his thighs.

  
"I thought you hated it here," Rick pants out, once they finally stop for breath. Daryl's lips are bright pink and swollen, and all Rick wants to do is kiss him senseless.

  
"Do. Not with you, though." He looks around at the small, monotone room, hands brushing over the pale grey carpet, and he shivers on top of Rick. Rick can feel the movement in his chest. "Distract me?"

  
Rick smiles, wrapping his arms around Daryl's neck and pulling him back down. "Of course."

  
Daryl runs one hand through Rick's tight curls and pulls, tilting his head back as their mouths slot together again. Daryl hums, and Rick can feel the sound against his tongue. He closes his eyes, hands on the brunet's hips, and pulls him down flush against him. Their crotches press together, both achingly hard, and the sensation makes Rick shudder into their kiss. Daryl pulls back, smirking broadly.

  
He grinds, gently at first, then with more vigor, against the front of Rick's pants. The friction makes Rick squirm, pushing his hips up for more, pulse pounding loudly in his ears. Daryl kisses down his neck, then stops to nip at his collarbone, leaving marks with his teeth.

  
Rick pushes Daryl's shirt up, pulling it over his head and throwing it aside. His skin is hot, fine hairs gathering on his chest, and Rick runs his hands through them, ghosting his fingers over Daryl's sensitive skin. He stops at a nipple, tweaking it, and the moan he gets in response makes his stomach flip.

  
He's a mess of nerves and excitement, just like he always is with Daryl. It doesn't matter how far they go, how often they fool around, he still feels like a teenager in the middle of his first time. His insides turn, clenching and flopping in his stomach, and his throat feels tight and scratchy. Every time Daryl touches him his skin tingles, pulsing aches along his body that make him feel needy and lost.

  
Daryl pulls Rick's shirt off too, crumpling it up and tossing it onto the bed. He runs his tongue down Rick's chest, through his sparse hair and over an exposed nipple. Rick shudders, hands tightening around Daryl's hips. His fingernails draw into his skin, leaving crescent shaped indents, but the brunet doesn't seem to mind. If anything, it makes him go faster, his tongue swirling around Rick's nipple and then his lips, sucking gently. Heat pools in Rick's stomach and all he can hear is the sound of his own heartbeat, echoing loudly in his head, and Daryl's breathy exhales.

  
Daryl's hair tickles Rick's stomach on the way down, his tongue leaving a thin trail of saliva from his chest to the beginning curls of hair poking out over the waistband of his pants. He pulls Rick's sweatpants down around his ankles, and Rick kicks his feet out of them quickly. He's obviously hard through his thin boxers and he looks down, face heating up, as Daryl begins to palm him through them.

  
Daryl stops just long enough to pull his own pants off, throwing them with Rick's shirt, and then his hands are back on Rick again. He dips his fingers below Rick's underwear, strokes him lazily a few times, and then pulls his boxers off completely, along with the pants still around his ankles. He leans down, kisses Rick slowly, and then moves back altogether. The absence of his presence on Rick's skin leaves him feeling empty, like pulling a warm blanket off on a chilly winter morning. Daryl reaches blindly behind himself for his bag, shuffling through the front pocket, before he comes back with a small bottle in his hand that Rick recognizes, even though he's never used it before.

  
His heart speeds up to an impossibly fast pace and he shivers at the implications. Daryl just hands him the bottle without a word and goes back to kissing him, and _oh_ , Rick thinks. _Oh_. That's what's happening.

  
Rick switches their positions in one fluid movement, putting his arms around Daryl's shoulders and flipping him over onto his back. Daryl grins up at him, hands circling around the small of his back, blush spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck. He looks embarrassed, a little awkward, as he tugs his own underwear down and kicks them aside with his feet. Rick looks down at him, taking in the flushed cheeks and parted lips, the arms taught around his waist, the hard cock straining against his stomach. His hair is splayed out around his head, a few strands in his face, and Rick reaches out to wipe them away, pushing them back behind his ears so he can see Daryl's eyes - dark blue, pupils dilated, crinkling at the corners as he smiles.

  
Rick has never seen anything so beautiful, and he opens his mouth to say so, but Daryl quickly captures his lips with his own and silences him mid-word. Their crotches brush and a shudder wracks Rick's entire body.

  
Rick's not entirely sure what to do. He's never been with a man before, never even wanted to, but he thinks he can figure it out. Especially with Daryl underneath him, looking up expectantly, baring his entire body when just a few weeks ago he was afraid to show his back to Rick. Rick is filled with pride and another emotion he can't quite define, but all he knows is he wants Daryl, all of him, with everything he has.   
He pulls Daryl's legs up, hooking his knees over his shoulders, and squeezes a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He coats his hand with the slippery, slightly warm substance and rolls his fingers around in it, marveling at the sensation. Then he lines up his index finger with Daryl's entrance, watching his face closely for his reaction, and pushes in, slowly.

  
"This okay?" he asks, keeping his finger still.

  
Daryl tenses, shuddering, and nods quickly. His hands are clenched into the fabric of the blanket underneath him and he's biting at his lower lip like he's trying not to make a sound.

  
Rick wiggles his finger experimentally, tearing a low moan out of Daryl's throat, and pulls it out slightly just to push it back in a moment later. He enjoys the feeling of tight skin around his finger, pulling him in and holding him in place. He pumps his finger a few more times, dripping lube onto the blanket underneath them, before he pulls it out completely and replaces it with two.

  
Two is a little harder, and he has to work his fingers in slowly, keenly aware of every noise Daryl makes, voluntary or not. When he hears a sharp intake of breath he stops, pulls out a little, and waits until his breathing evens out. He scissors his fingers out carefully, earning a groan for his efforts and he smiles, pausing just long enough to plant a few kisses along Daryl's thighs. Daryl's legs tremble around him and his cock twitches against his stomach, and Rick wonders if he's even going to hold out long enough for Rick to enter him.

  
He pulls both fingers out with a slick, wet sound and tries for a third. The ring of flesh doesn't expand as easily, and he's careful not to catch his fingernails on anything. He spreads a little more lube on his fingers and pushes in, harder this time, feeling the skin contract around his fingertips. Daryl pants loudly, knuckles turning white around the fabric in his fists, and then holds his breath as Rick presses in further, almost all the way, and starts moving his fingers around experimentally.

  
Rick tries to imagine what Daryl is feeling right now. He's not even sure if he could put words to the sensation, but it must feel good, because he's groaning and arching his back up into Rick's fingers and his cock is still hard and dripping on his stomach. Rick turns his head and kisses his knee, holding his fingers in place while Daryl rocks his hips, making needy sounds that make Rick's chest feel like it's going to explode.

  
He removes his fingers with a _pop_ that makes Daryl's hole twitch, the pink skin stretched and puckered. He leans forward and kisses Daryl's lips, brushing his cock against the brunet's bare ass, and whispers "You still okay?" against his mouth.

  
Daryl nods, offers a gruff "Yeah," and slowly lets go of the blanket, raising one hand to card it through Rick's hair briefly. Rick smiles into the kiss before he pulls back and sits down on his heels, watching Daryl's facial expressions through his lashes.

  
He squeezes more lube onto his fingers and coats his cock with it, lining it up with Daryl's entrance. He asks him again if he's okay and chuckles when he rolls his eyes and offers him the most annoyed yes he can muster. He pushes forward, feeling resistance and tightness at first before the skin gives way and he manages to push inside completely. It's a strange sensation, but not at all bad - tight, pulsing flesh around his aching cock, holding him in place until he rocks his hips and pulls back, then forward again, creating a rhythm that Daryl follows, lifting his hips into the air a few inches.

  
Rick runs his fingers down Daryl's thighs, reveling in the shudder he gets in response, and then wraps one hand around the brunet's length, creating friction as he moves his hips. He squeezes, using Daryl's precum and the lubricant still slick on his fingers to stroke him, earning moans that wrack his body and pants that echo in the small room. Rick picks up speed, using gravity to his advantage as he pushes in and out; it gets easier the longer he does it, until Daryl's body opens up for him and it becomes almost effortless.

  
He knows when he's hit Daryl's prostate because the brunet lets out a high-pitched keening noise and sweat beads on his forehead; Rick reaches up to wipe his hair back again and trails kisses down his chest, loving the little whimpers that come out of his mouth every time Rick hits the right spot. He aims for it, timing his thrusts with Daryl's sounds, heat pooling in his stomach and chest tight. Daryl groans out his name, low and raspy, and Rick knows he's a goner.

  
\---

  
They lie on the floor after, Rick on his back and Daryl on his side, curled up against him with one hand on his chest. Rick is sticky and a little wet, but he doesn't feel like moving. Their clothes are thrown throughout the room and they're still bare naked, Daryl's half-hard cock pressed lightly against Rick's hip.

  
"Hey," Rick says suddenly, motioning towards the half-empty bottle of lube sitting on the floor a foot away. "Where did you get that, by the way? I don't remember you picking it up on a run."

  
Daryl blushes from his neck to his ears. "This morning. Some kinky place on third? Dunno."

  
He shrugs, and Rick remembers. He remembers Daryl taking an abnormally long piss break and coming back more flustered than usual. And he thinks, the _little shit_ , planning this the whole time. He probably knew where things were leading long before Rick caught up. Just the thought sends a wave of heat between his thighs and he turns his head, kissing Daryl's bright red cheek.

  
Daryl hums, resuming his circle-rubbing on Rick's bare skin. Rick sighs, his skin tingling. It's comfortable, and peaceful, and perfect, and Rick blurts it out before he can stop himself.

  
"I think I love you."

  
Daryl freezes against him for a moment, his hand stilling it's circling on Rick's chest, before he relaxes and presses a light kiss to Rick's shoulder. "Love you, too."

  
"Really?"

  
"Yeah. Long time, actually." He shrugs, looking embarrassed, and turns his head. Rick reaches out and cups his jaw, pulling him back around to face him, and kisses his lips long and slow.

  
They're going to have to leave camp soon; it's getting closer to winter and Walkers have been getting closer to their boundaries after the first attack. Shane is gone, and Lori is a mess, expecting a baby that Rick is going to have to take care of, that isn't even his. Jenner is missing, maybe dead, and maybe they will be soon, too. But right now, in the tiny room in the lab where it all started, Rick doesn't care about any of that. All he cares about is Daryl's hand on his chest, legs tangled in his, and the butterflies in his stomach as their lips slot together like puzzle pieces. And life feels pretty good for the goddamn apocalypse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I've never written a sex scene or anything even close in my entire life. And I'll admit I wasn't quite sober when I wrote this. Please forgive me. Not sure I could have managed it without a little liquid courage. 
> 
> That said, I really hope you guys enjoyed the story, regardless of its many flaws. It was fun to write, and even though I don't quite like how it turned out, it's still my first TWD fic and my first fic in a long, long time. 
> 
> And to my fans of Roses, expect a new chapter tomorrow. I'm so sorry for the wait, but it'll be worth it. And updates will be more regular from here on out, I promise :)


End file.
